A Lady Needn't Fear When You Are Near
by xxJillian-Elizabethxx
Summary: Everyone knows of the Nanny who is "Practically Perfect in Every Way", but how much do you really know about her? How did she come to be where she is and what happened to her after leaving Cherry Tree Lane? [In Progress]
1. It All Comes Back

**A/N: This is my first chapter fic in a while so please be patient with me!**

 **I will be putting a lot of dates to help you guys stay oriented within the story and in relation to the movie/musical (so Spring 1910 instead of the 1930s)**

 **Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to P.L. Travers - duh**

* * *

 _Chapter 1: It All Comes Back_

 _"I can't abide romantic notions of some vague long ago; I want to know what's true..."_

* * *

 _20 December, 1890_

 _"Oh, Daddy!" the 4-year-old girl squeals at the new doll her father just bought for her "She's beautiful!"_

 _The older man smiles down at his daughter. "Of course she is, my little parrot, she looks just like you."_

 _And he was right. The dolls has curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, and flawless porcelain skin, both in color and material._

 _The father and daughter proceed to walk until reaching their rather large house, surrounded by an array of beautiful foliage. Of course, not that one could tell, as the whole world seemed to be grey-scaled on this dreary London day._

 _"Come along inside, sweetheart, before you catch your death out here."_

 _"Of course, Daddy." The girl ran ahead of her father and through the front door, clutching her doll to her chest, as if already feeling a motherly instinct to protect her 'child'._

 _The father had previously made sure all servants had gotten this day off so the only person to greet the two upon entering was the mother._

 _"Hello, mum!"_

 _"Oh, you two are back, already?" the little girl's mother replies, a slight joke to her tone._

 _The father, called James, goes over to his wife. She leans in to give him a quick kiss, but instead, he pulls her into his arms and kisses her with more passion than either of them can recall having._

 _"Oh, Adelaide. My sweet, sweet, Adelaide." He drew out her name, looking deep into her eyes for a moment, before she averted her gaze to the floor._

 _"How are you feeling, James?" she replies in just above a whisper, hoping to hide the fear and concern in her voice. She still couldn't meet his eyes. He gently places a hand under her chin and forces his lips to hers once more._

 _"I am going to rest my head." And he kisses his wife one more time, before looking down at the 11-month-old in her arms._

 _"Your mama is a very brave woman, Angel."_

 _"As is your father." Adelaide quickly adds, thinking back to all their happy memories._

 _James offers her a smile, before pressing a soft kiss to his youngest daughter's head._

 _At this point a much older girl, the eldest of the three sisters, walked in._

 _"Joy, Joy, look!" The four-year-old exclaims running over to her sister with her doll in front of her._

 _"Oh, she's beautiful." Joy responds. At only 12, she had already developed a rather motherly attitude. "What do you call her?"_

 _The younger girl began cradling the doll, copying the way her mother is holding her little sister. She looks closely at the doll's porcelain face before replying "She's Clara." with a smile._

 _"Oh, she's just perfect!" Joy says, smiling at her sister before catching her father's eyes. She is the eldest and, thus, has a slight inkling as to what is going on, especially as her father kneels down to be eye-level with her. Knowingly, Joy sends her sister away with a polite flick of her wrist._

 _"Joy" he begins and the girl before him almost breaks down crying._

 _"Please don't cry, darling." He offers a weak smile. " You are so strong and I know you will take great care of mum and your sisters."_

 _She nods and James places a light kiss on her hairline._

 _"I love you, so much, Joy, even if you like spending time with mum better." At this, the girl jumps into her father's arms, finally letting her tears spill over her eyes, but smiling at her father's comment, nonetheless._

 _He hugs her close to his chest._

 _"No sorrows, my darling, you'll always be in my heart."_

 _"I'll always keep you there as well." The girl chokes out in response._

 _James kisses her again before standing up._

 _"I'm off to bed; au revoir, my loves."_

 _He goes to return to his middle daughter who was playing with her new doll in the adjacent sitting room._

 _"Daddy, what does 'au revoir' mean?"_

 _He smiles. She did always have impeccable hearing, especially for a 4-year-old._

 _"It means 'until we meet again' my curious little parrot."_

 _He began to laugh as his daughter recited 'Au revoir - until we meet again' with a different tone of amazement in her voice each time the words left her tiny mouth, knowing she was committing the phrase to memory, as she follows him to his bedroom. After all, her curiosity for language and her need to consistently repeat the new words or phrases she learned was the reason he began to call her 'his little parrot' ever since she learned to speak._

 _At this point, James is lying down on his bed, not bothering to change; he is far too tired to do so. His daughter (arguably his favorite of the three, though he would never outwardly admit that) has curled up next to him._

 _"Sweetheart, look at me."_

 _"Yes, Daddy?"_

 _"Oh, my Mary, my little parrot... I love you more than the world." He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as she replies "I love you too, Daddy! I always will"_

 _She snuggles closer to her father, seeing him smile as he exhales. Normally, she would fall asleep to the rhythm of his chest rising and falling._

 _But she couldn't feel it._

 _That was when she noticed her mother crying in the doorway._

 _"Daddy?!"_

"Mary Poppins!"

"Oh sir, I am terribly sorry. Do forgive me." Mary says to the man in front of her.

He smiles back, "of course, no worries, dear. You are hired - effective immediately. My daughter is just upstairs, first door on the left."

"Thank you, sir." Mary starts ascending the stairs, but pauses halfway up.

"I shall see her straight away. Her name is Clara, did you say?"

The man nods, and her practically perfect composure slips for the second time that morning.

Mary Poppins inhales sharply and recollects herself, making her way to the girl's bedroom.

"For once," the nanny thinks to herself, "this will not be easy."

* * *

 **I'm sorry, I know it's a strange start, but please bear with me!**

 **\- Jillian xx**


	2. It Must Be Believed to be Seen

_Chapter 2: It Must Be Believed to be Seen_

 _"Beyond this gate is the world I create, but it must be believed to be seen."_

* * *

 _5 July 1916_

"Good morning, child." Mary says, waking up the 13-year-old. Naturally, Mary was already wide awake and prepared for the day.

Her newest charge, a girl by the name of Clara, ignores the nanny's request, and remains in bed, eyes shut tightly.

The girl is an only child - and a spoilt one at that! Of course, this was nothing Mary Poppins hadn't handled before. However, this assignment was proving much harder than any of her previous ones.

It brought back too many memories. This girl reminded Mary very much of herself growing up.

Mary tries again to wake the girl.

A muffled groan comes in response as the girls rolls over in bed.

This prompts Mary to open the curtains of the bedroom as wide as she can.

"I am not a farmer, why must I be up at the crack of dawn?"

Mary was beginning to lose her patience for this girl, and she hadn't even been in the house for 24 hours.

"I would hardly call half-eleven 'the crack of dawn'; you're father is already at work, and I have a very special day planned for us today."

The girl sits up in bed and rubs her eyes, trying to adjust to the light of the room. The nanny smiles to herself, proud of being able to wake the girl.

"And what might that be, Mary Poppins"

"We are going for a walk in the park."

"How exciting." Clara responds, falling back into her pillow. Or at least, that was her intention.

The girl lets out an unnecessarily piercing scream as she bangs her head on the headboard.

"Please, dear, I am here because your father believes you need someone to look after you when he is not around." Mary pauses, trying to refrain on adding her own thoughts to that statement. "Besides, if we are going to be spending time together, you are going to have to do things my way. And that starts with some fresh, mid-day, air." The nanny emphasizes the time of day to try to get the girl out of bed.

"Come along now, Clara, spit spot" The girl was trailing behind Mary, dragging her feet along the pavement, obviously trying to spite Mary for her idea of spending a day in the park.

"Do not drag your feet, child. You'll ruin your shoes."

"Why does it matter? Daddy can always just buy me a new pair."

Mary shot Clara an icy glare and the girl stopped. Though whether it was to actually appease her nanny or because something else caught her eye was debatable.

"Clara, please be careful." Mary says, slightly frustrated, as the little girl runs by her.

Mary would never chase after her, though her pace did quicken as the girl distanced herself from her caretaker.

It didn't matter, really, for Mary knew what had captured the little girl's attention.

Mary smiles when she sees the man kneeling on the pavement, adjacent to Clara.

"I'd know that silhouette anywhere." She laughs at the cheesy line he uses every time they run into each other in this fashion.

"Hello, Bert"

"An' good day to you, Mary Poppins."

Clara rolled her eyes at the two adults before her.

"Clara!" mary reprimands the little girl, trying not to lose her temper.

"Lovely to see you again, Bert." She extends her hand to the man kneeling before her.

Bert takes her hand and brushes his lips to her knuckles.

"Pleasure's all mine, Mary Poppins. It's been far too long."

"Nearly 4 years, if I recall correctly."

Bert flushes slightly "It's been six." He would know.

Mary feels a little colour enter her cheeks as well. "Has it? Well I am terribly sorry then."

Clara makes a face of disgust at the exchange. "If you two are going to kiss, can you just get it over with already.?"

"Clara, do be careful not to ruin your dress." Mary replies, a beat after remembering her charge is still beside her, ignoring the child's comment.

The girl impatiently stares back at the nanny.

"This is my friend, Bert. Bert, this is Clara"

Bert tries to hide the cringe in his face with her accent on the word "friend" and goes to shake hands with Clara.

"Why would I touch someone like you!" the 13-year-old responds, crossing her arms across her chest, genuinely offended by the gesture.

"You are filthy. And obviously poor. You are of the exact people that make people of higher status, like my father, ashamed to live in London."

As rude as this girl is being to her dearest friend, Mary can't help but smile at the comment. However, she knows it is not her place to say anything, not that she feels like bringing up her own first encounter with Bert in this park.

She also picks up on the girl's sophisticated vocabulary for someone of Clara's age and is suddenly saddened by the thoughts of her own childhood, yet again.

At the same time, Bert scoffs and removes his cap pressing it to his chest. "That hurt, missy. You should be careful who you speak to with that attitude."

The little girl sticks her nose in the air, eyeing the man before her.

Bert takes this as a good opportunity to stand and walks over to Mary. She takes a step away from him.

"I'm also a chimney sweep y'know."

"So?" Clara puts her hands on her hips, now having to look up at the man towering over her.

"So?" Bert mocks her, resting his hands on his hips as well. "'Asn't anyone ever told you it's good luck to shake hands with a sweep."

"What an awful tradition."

"What an awful attitude."

"Why should I shake hands with a stranger, anyway."

"If I am such a stranger, then why should you look down on someone you don't even know."

Mary snaps out of her thought process and lets out an all too audible sigh. "If you two children are done, we have errands to run." She takes Clara's hand.

Unfortunately for Mary, Clara takes this a sign to change her attitude. "Did you draw these, Bert?"

"Yes I did" Bert says while adjusting his bowtie in satisfaction.

"Oh don't be too modest now, Bert." Mary rolls her eyes. But eventually gives in to Bert's conspiring stare.

"Oh, all right." she turns back to her charge. " How would you like to go on an adventure."

That caught the girl's attention. But not quite in the way mary would have liked.

"An adventure in London. How exciting." She was very sarcastic for her age - something else she had in common with a young Mary Poppins.

Bert bends down to be eye level with the girl again.

"Pick one of these 'ere pictures."

"Why" the girl responds all too defiantly.

Bert chuckles at her stubbornness. "Just pick your favourite.

"That one, with the castle because that's where a princess would live!"

"Oh how fitting" Mary mumbles, earning her a less than giddy look from Bert.

"What was that? I thought practically perfect people are never to mumble!" Bert says in as posh an accent as he can manage. He loved any opportunity he got where he could poke fun at Mary's "practically perfect" exterior.

Mary glares down at her friend who is still level with her charge. "Well I haven't been feeling myself lately." the nanny snaps, showing more honesty than she would have liked. But it does make Bert realize he's crossed a line.

However, before he can apologize, Mary regains her composure and looks to the little girl.

"Would you like to go there, then, Clara?" Mary asks the little girl, motioning to the picture.

Clara begins jumping with excitement. "Oh very much so! But how?"

Bert and Mary share a glance before Bert decides to say "Anything can happen when you're with Mary Poppins."

"Take my hand, Clara." Mary says, grasping the girl's hand back in her own, already holding Bert's.

"Funny, I don't recall that happening" Mary thinks to herself.

Before Clara can even process what was happening, the trio stands in the garden at the foot of the castle.

Looking down, Clara sees she is now wearing a pink frilly dress (much like something she would own, but doesn't) with white bows along the waist, matching patent leather shoes and, of course, a tiara fit for a princess.

"Wow, this place is incredible!" Clara says in awe. "But, how?"

Bert smiles down at her. "Didn't you 'ear what I just said - you must really learn to listen, missy."

He flattens non-existent wrinkles out of his purple waistcoat and matching trousers as he says this.

Mary smiles at him as she looks down at her own bright yellow sundress. Nothing too fancy, but beautifully poetic at how opposite their personalities are.

"Mary Poppins - this is wonderful!" The little girl runs over to her nanny and wraps her arms around her, catching Mary off guard.

Bert can't help but laugh at the scene, and does nothing to hide his smirk from his friend.

"Oh, you think this is funny now, do you?" Mary scolds Bert's immaturity.

"Off please, child."

Clara obeys, but stays smiling.

"Thank you." She says up to Mary, politely. That's a first.

Suddenly a butterfly flutters by and Clara runs off chasing it.

"Do be careful not to hurt yourself, or smudge the painting!" Mary yells as the girl runs off.

"Oh, she'll be fine, Mary. What could possibly 'appen to her?"

Mary sighs; she knows Bert's right. Afterall, he did create this place.

"Now, why don't we go inside and have some tea."

Mary rolls her eyes at the suggestion. "Of course he did." she thinks. "Always one for surprises."

Surely enough, the two friends walk inside and there is already a table set for two. Bert pulls out one of the chairs, motioning her to sit. Once she does, he walks into the adjacent kitchen.

"Red or white" he asks reentering the room.

She smirks to herself. "Rosé." She says defiantly (thinking he is still in the other room), but has to laugh when she notices him already pouring the pink wine into her glass.

"If you already knew what I would say, then why would you ask."

Bert laughs as he pours into his own glass and sits down across from her. "Just thought I'd see your reaction."

"You are so childish, sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Bert feigns offense at the comment.

Mary laughs at him. Not her usual light-hearted gigle though. No, this was a genuine laugh that makes Bert smile and his heart flutter as he tries to remember the last time he heard that laugh.

Then it hits him - he can't.

"Everything all right, Bert?"

Suddenly, Bert feels a tension he didn't know was there ease. "Er, yes, of course, Mary."

He knows she is not buying it, but neither of them really care.

A waiter brings their food over, putting an idea in Mary's head. She decides to whisper something to the servant before he walks off. Bert looks at her questioningly, but she just shrugs and begins eating.

After a few moments pass without a word being said, it is Mary who decides to break the silence.

"So... purple?" She asks with a giggle, using her fork to motion to her friend's ensemble.

Bert blushes a little bit at the question. "It's your favourite colour. I figured you'd like it."

Mary smiles across at him. Him, her best friends for nearly 16 years, she suddenly doesn't know how to act around.

"Well, of course I love it. The colour suits you really well." She reaches across the table to place her hand on Bert's.

Suddenly, he tenses up and feels his heartbeat quicken.

"Not like anything could ever look bad on you." Mary adds, finishing off her wine in an attempt to hide her blush.

"And the yellow?"

Bert's own blush deepens. "Oh, c'mon Mary, you know that was your doing, not mine." he suggests.

Unfortunately for him, they both know he's lying.

"Bert..."

He mumbles something that Mary can't quite make out.

"Oh, do speak up!" Mary says, too much like how she would address one of her charges after they've misbehaved.

"Sorry." The nanny says awkwardly.

"It's mine." Bert says, suddenly finding his lap much more interesting than his dinner.

"Your what?" Mary asks, genuinely not understanding what he is referring to. But her face softens as she realises.

Bert remains in the same position, not seeing Mary rise from her seat and walk over to him.

That is until he feels her arms twining around his neck.

Bert feels chills creep up his spine as she presses her cheek to his.

"You look positively ravishing." Bert suddenly forgets how to breath, the only thing on his mind is the sensation of this woman's breath against his ear.

"As do you." He manages ot choke out.

"I really do love this colour on you, Bert."

Bert laughs nervously.

"Why is she suddenly acting this way. This is not like her at all." Bert's mind races with confusion, pleasure, and elation.

Pleasure. That thought made him extremely uncomfortable in a very, er, obvious way.

Bert is about ready to stand up when their waiter comes in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I disturbing something." The servants says apologetically as Mary puts her arms behind her back and Bert practically jumps out of his chair and instinctively folds his hands in front of himself.

"Nothing at all." The friends say in unison.

They try to remain serious, but neither can help laughing at the whole situation. Mary takes the covered plate from the waiter before dismissing him.

Bert walks over to Mary.

"What's on the plate?"

Mary smiles, uncovering a slice of gingerbread cake.

Bert rolls his eyes. "You and your gingerbread obsession."

Mary gives him a gentle smack on the arm.

"Mind yourself, Bert. Besides, you and I both know who made me love it so much."

Bert smiles his goofy grin. "Of course." Bert says, eyeing the cake in a way that leads Mary to pull the plate away from him.

"Oh, c'mon, Mary, why you gotta play games with me?" Bert pleads, widening his brown eyes.

Of course she has to give into that face.

"Oh all right." She resigns, setting the dessert down onto the table, each taking their seats and going in for a bite at the same time.

Once finished, Bert offers his hand to Mary and begins twirling her around the room. He doesn't know what drives him to make such a gesture, but goes with it. Besides, he is rather enjoying how close he is to Mary at the moment.

"How childish of you, Bert!" Mary exclaims, slightly fluster at his bold expression.

Bert smiles down at her. "It's not like you need music to dance."

Suddenly both of them are standing still in the middle of the room, merely inches from each other. Bert presses his forehead to Mary's as her eyelids flutter shut.

But the second they do, Mary pushes away from Bert, her eyes wider than he's ever seen.

Reality sinks back in and she regains her composure. The woman notices the hurt expression on her friend's face and takes Bert's hands in her own.

"Happy Birthday, Bert." Mary nods as she takes a step away from her friend.

Fuck it. Bert reaches forward, grabs Mary by the waist, and plants a quick kiss on on her lips.

Mary gasps and, once she pulls away from her friend, slaps him hard across the face and storms out.

"It most certainly is now, Mary Poppins." Bert places his hand to the red mark already prominent on his left cheek. "It most certainly is."


	3. Brick by Boring Brick

_Chapter 3: Brick by Boring Brick_

 _"You built up a world of magic because your real life is tragic…"_

* * *

"Aw, c'mon Mary!" Bert calls after the woman, storming out of the castle.

"Cor, I didn't mean to upset you."

That does it.

"You didn't mean to upset me?" Mary responds, a little too calmly, turning around to face Bert.

"You knew full well how I would react and you just-"

"Mary I know, I-"

"Do not interrupt a woman when she is speaking, Bert. Especially when that woman is me, thank you very much." She finally snaps.

Bert takes a step back. Though he wouldn't admit it, there was only one other time he could recall Mary snapping like this, and he hated to think that he caused his best friend to be full of so much hurt and anger.

 _20 December 1900_

 _"Mary, love, are you all right?" Bert says, walking into the girl's room._

 _"Oh, I wasn't expecting you all back until late." She says, clearly trying to cover the fact she had been crying._

 _And Bert knows why._

 _He goes over to sit next to her on the bed and pulls her into a tight hug. Mary breaks down for what seems like the hundredth time that night._

 _"Well, we got home early. Do you want to talk?"_

 _"What's the point?" Mary reasons between sobs._

 _"If you don't want to that's fine," Bert places a gentle kiss in her hair. "But know that I am always here for you. I promised that the day we met."_

 _"And it was a piecrust promise"_

 _"A what?"_

 _Mary pulls out of the embrace to look Bert in the eyes. "A piecrust promise: easily made, easily broken." She chokes out._

 _"Mary, I don't understand?"_

 _The girl in question stands and begins pacing in front of Bert._

 _"See, it's like a piecrust. When I was younger and I got worked up over something, my mum would tell me to just try to use metaphors and similes; comparing how I was feeling to something physical helped me understand and overcome that which I was feeling."_

 _As sad as he was to see his best friend fighting back pain, Bert couldn't help but smile at this reasoning. And she is looking a bit more composed now._

 _"So it was a piecrust promise because it was easily made, but it also can be very easily broken."_

 _Tears began to flood over Mary's eyes once more._

 _"You promised me that you would be there for me, but you can't always be there."_

 _She begins breathing heavily, falling to the ground to support herself._

 _"And he knew when he said it that he wouldn't be."_

 _Bert was completely lost._

 _"Mary…" he reaches out to touch her, but she bats his hand away._

 _"No: it was a lie and he knew it."_

 _Suddenly a rage like Bert's never seen flashes in Mary's eyes. He decided to just let her rant._

 _"When Angel was born, I was outside of the room. I- I heard them talking and…"_

 _Tears were flowing freely down her face, staining her porcelain complexion._

 _"He promised me, Bert. He promised me he would always watch over me, and he knew it was a promise he couldn't keep."_

 _Bert sat silently, still confused as ever._

 _"Father knew he was dying, within the year nonetheless, but he still promised my mum that he would look after me. It was a piecrust promise - one he knew he couldn't keep. It shouldn't matter if he didn't know I was listening, he shouldn't have said something he couldn't uphold. He said he would look after me, but he knew he was going to leave me. And it made it that much harder to move on once he did. I could hardly function after my father died, I was so upset. But not only because I had lost him, no, I was mostly upset, angry even, that he had left with a broken promise."_

 _Mary curls up into a ball on the floor, as if to protect herself from her sorrows._

 _Bert takes the opportunity to stand up and go over to her, pulling his friend back into his embrace._

 _"Shh.. It's all right, Mary."_

 _"No it's not." comes her response, barely audible. "And he left me with that awful man. If he truly wanted to look after me, he would have sent me a guardian angel once he passed. But no. I get stuck with the epitome of evil."_

 _Bert looks down at the girl in his arms. "That's a little strong don'tcha think."_

 _Mary stares daggers back at him._

 _"That man made my life hell - I believe that's reason enough to call him evil. Bert, you know what that man did to me, how he treated me, what he made me think about, and how he made me feel, and what I almost did because of him, and what I did do."_

 _Her last statement hangs in the air. They both know what she means, but neither dares speak of such events._

 _Mary presses on. "Do not dare make me feel sorry for what I say of him. He deserves to rot in the depths of hell."_

 _"Try telling that to your mother." Bert adds under his breath. This snaps something new, and quite frightening actually, in Mary._

 _"She's probably there already. 'Til death do us part' and wanting to be buried with him. The nerve of that woman! I lost faith in her the day she put her wedding band on my father's headstone because she had a new one to place on her finger. To think she introduced that man as my 'father'. My father was a wonderful man who died too young, with a broken promise to his little parrot."_

 _Hot tears were stinging in Mary's eyes still._

 _"My mother's second 'lover' was no step-father: he deserves a much more disgusting title for the horrid things he's done. He should be in prison, where people like him are called-"_

 _Bert covers her mouth in an attempt to calm Mary down, knowing full well how this conversation affect her, and it is most certainly not the mindset Mary needs at the moment._

 _"It isn't fair, Bert. That he lives when my father doesn't. And it is not fair that my father was taken from me, only to be replaced by that wretched being. Taken from me when he promised he would always look after me. He couldn't keep his word and, as much as I would like you to, you cannot either."_

 _"Believe what you must." Bert reasons. "But I would not promise you something I could not keep."_

 _Mary raises her head to protest, but he continues._

 _"I promise you, Mary, no matter how far apart we are, no matter how long we go without seeing each other, you can always come to me with anything and I will be happy to oblige your requests. I care about you, honestly, and it pains me to see you like this. I never want to have to see you like this, and especially not at my doing. Listen to me. I'm sorry, love. I am sorry you feel this way and that you don't trust me. Or can't trust me, or whatever. However, I promise to never leave you. I don't care what you think, I will keep that promise."_

 _A feeble "thank you." is all Mary can muster, having expelled most of her energy crying through the last few hours._

"Did you even hear a word I said?" Mary snaps, realizing she no longer has Bert's full attention. "No, obviously you did not." Mary rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry, love." Bert replies timidly (and also with a twinge of guilty) knowing he should have been listening to his friend after what he put her through.

For some reason, and Bert has an idea as to why, this phrase causes Mary's glare to soften. But only for a moment, before she slaps him for the second time that afternoon and, yet again, storms away.

Though this time, she goes to sit with Clara. The girl is sitting under a nearby tree; Bert watches as she walks over.

"How are you, pet?" Mary inquires, standing next to the child.

"I am having a positively lovely day, Mary Poppins, thank you!"

"It is getting a little late, perhaps we should head home."

Clara stands in protest. "But I don't want to leave this place."

"All right, then what do you want to do in the meantime." Mary reasons, allowing herself to sit in the grass. "I don't want you wandering too far off now."

"Tell me a story, Mary Poppins." The girl says as she sits back down.

"And what about, may I ask?" Mary questions. Looking down as her charge. She was glad to see her attitude improving already. Unfortunately, she new the father was going to be her real challenge.

Clara thinks for a moment as she looks around the picture before her eyes land upon the castle.

Mary smiles to herself and takes the hint. "Aren't you a little old for fairytales?"

The smaller girl sticks her nose in the air. "One is never too old to hear a story that is the embodiment of childhood memories and innocence."

That last word strikes Mary, but she brushes the feeling off. "Oh, all right, you. So, we have-"

"Once upon a time…" Clara offers with a cheeky grin.

"Once upon a time there was a King and Queen living in England and they were very happily married."

"Did they have a prince or princess, too?" Clara cannot resist interjecting.

"Patience, child. Do not keep interrupting if you wish me to continue."

Clara covers her mouth with her hand and nods to signal for Mary to continue.

"And yes, they have three princesses, actually."

"When the first princess was born, mother and father adored her. But the father felt like he was not a good enough father to her, as he was frequently called away when she was little, so he wanted another child. And for years he wished he could have a daughter that he could be as good to as his wife was to their first daughter."

"And as his daughter got older, he felt worried that she would become too accustomed to her lavish lifestyle and feared how she would be once she grew up."

"Well, couldn't she just marry wealthy."

Mary looks back down at the younger girl.

Clara mouths a "sorry" as she apologetically nuzzles closer to the nanny. Normally, Mary would have asked the child to stop, but the affection was soothing her now. She was basically a mother figure to this girl, even if she's known her for hardly a day.

"Well, she could have, but the King just wanted all his daughters to be happy, especially when it came to falling in love. He was a very caring man."

"So, the King could not have been happier the day his second daughter was born; he was determined to care for her as he did not with his older daughter. However, the mother still only cared about the older princess and practically ignored her younger daughter, as she didn't even really want a second child."

Clara gapes "Oh how awful - oh I am sorry for interrupting again."

"It's all right." Mary smiles.

"Then, the queen found out she was to have a third child and it was then she realized how awful it feels to be unloved be one of her daughters. So naturally she planned to make it up to herself by being overly attentive to her youngest, as though that is the only logical thing to do."

Mary definitely slips out of her practically perfect composure as she says these last statements.

"Pardon, where was I?"

Clara decides to not comment on what just happened. "The third princess."

"Oh, yes, so the third daughter was born and the mother showered her with praise as promised. Except another promise was made that day. The father promised to look after the second princess. However, by now, the father was very sick and knew he was dying. And less than a year after the youngest daughter was born, he passed, and could no longer protect the middle daughter."

"Well did they get to live happily ever after, or not? What happens next" Clara questioned.

Although Mary knew the girl was old enough to know that everything didn't work out, but she couldn't bring herself to tell the full story, especially not quickly enough to get Clara home at a reasonable hour. So she settles on a much abridged version.

"Well, the mother got remarried a few years after the father died and had another daughter whom she cherished with the new King. She died a few years later though. But the King was good to his two youngest daughters. The eldest of the four princesses found a prince of her own to marry, as did the third princess and they were married. The youngest found a prince as well, but they are still young. So I suppose it is happily ever after."

"What about the second princess." Mary hoped Clara wouldn't have picked up on that.

"She, er, I suppose she did, in her own way."

"Oh, all right." Clara yawns, suddenly too tired to further inquire.

Mary chuckles. "I think we should be getting home."

Mary stands up and dusts off her skirt. She sees Clara has half fallen asleep and decides to leave her for a moment.

"So how much did you hear?" Mary questions, not even looking up from herself yet.

Bert grins, not at all surprised she knew he was standing there. "I 'eard the 'ole thing."

Mary turns to face him. Bert offers a smile gesturing her to come closer to him.

She just looks back at him with a glazed stare.

A moment of awkward silence passes before she shakes the feeling away and says "We should be off."

Bert nods in agreeance.

"Come along now, Clara, take my hand." The girl, hardly aware of her surroundings anymore stands up and does as instructed.

And just like that, the three stand in the park, just as they had that afternoon.

"Oh, Mary Poppins, could we do that again sometime?" Clara practically begs, suddenly filled with a second wind of energy.

Mary simply turns and begins walking to the girl's home. Clara follows suit, but not before catching a glimpse of Bert winking at her. The little girl runs back and sticks out her hand to the man.

"For good luck." She smiles up at him.

He shakes her tiny hand. "Glad you 'ad a change in 'eart, missy."

Clara waves to Bert as she runs to catch up with her nanny.

"Do be careful, dear, you never know what can happen to you in this park." Mary says once the girl is at her side again.

"Mary Poppins, today was so much fun!" The young girl exclaims on their walk back to her home.

"Well I am sorry for running off on you when we arrived, but I met this kitten - adorable little thing - and she could talk too! And she told me she belonged to the princess, and then she took me into the palace, and the dining room was huge - bigger than my house - and then we went to the gardens. Oh, Mary Poppins, they were so beautiful, with flowers of every color imaginable. I could spend the rest of my life there. And your story was just wonderful - so, so, lifelike and-"

"Do slow down, child." Mary finally cuts the girl off. "It sounds like today was pretty eventful."

"Oh it was!" Clara responds, her eyes widening. She no longer shows even the slightest trace of her former fatigue.

The two arrive at the girl's front gate. "Well then you must be very tired. Once you finish your tea, I expect you in bed."

"But Mary Poppins." The girl whines as they walk in the door. "How could I possibly go to sleep after everything that has happened."

The girl's father comes over to greet his daughter.

"And what might that be." The father questions.

"Mary Poppins took us inside one of those chalk pictures people do on the pavement in the park and-"

"Inside a chalk drawing?" The man interjects his daughter's recounting of the day's adventures as the three walk into the house.

"Mary Poppins, do explain what my daughter is going on about."

"First of all, I would like to make one thing very clear."

Her employer nods for Mary to continue.

"I never explain anything."


	4. Vanilla Ice Cream

_Chapter 4: Vanilla Ice Cream_

 _"Last night I was so nasty - well he deserved it - but even so…"_

* * *

"I never explain anything."

With that, Mary nods her head and begins climbing the stairs.

"Excuse me." Comes the father's voice. Mary turns to see anger written all over his face and his words.

"I would appreciate if you would answer my question." The man snaps, growing impatient.

"Sir, I do not mean to be rude, but at least I make an effort to do something your daughter will enjoy. Much more than you can say for yourself, never being home and all, when this girl no longer has a mother to care for her in you absence."

"And what is the supposed to mean?" The man bites back.

Mary glares straight into his eyes with a smirk. "I just find it difficult to believe your work is why you have affairs keeping you out this late."

The man looks at the nanny in utter disbelief for making such a bold statement. "Out."

"Excuse me, sir?" Mary is genuinely offended by the command.

"I want you out of this house as soon as possible. I cannot trust you with my daughter if you cannot answer a simple question."

"Well, sir, all do respect, but the question is not very simple at all. I believe there to be a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?" The father's voice is low, but remains threatening. "Why, Miss Poppins, can you not simply explain why my daughter is raving on about what you've done with her this afternoon as though she has gone completely mental?"

The man pauses for a moment, closing his eyes. When he opens them, there is a whole new fire burning behind them as he stares down Mary.

"Get. out. of. my. house!" The man's face is quickly becoming bright red, exemplifying the seriousness of his statement.

"But sir-"

"NOW!"

Mary is stunned. She politely nods her head and goes to Clara's nursery to gather her things, entirely unable to respond any further. She normally would have fought harder, but she was not herself tonight. No, Mary's thinking was rather… muddled as of late.

"Mary Poppins, are you leaving so soon?"

Mary looks to the younger girl whom she has already grown to adore a little.

"I am afraid so, my pet. Your father does not want me here any longer."

The 13-year-old looks up at her nanny, sorrow written all over her expression. Clara then looks to her feet as she says "I hate when father gets like this."

Perhaps it is the father's anger, perhaps the girl's ages, perhaps both factors, perhaps some outside force, but something suddenly clicks in Mary head and she frightfully looks down at the girl.

"Clara, sweetheart."

The girl looks up at her name.

"Has your father ever done anything to you when he gets like this?"

Clara shakes her head, confused by the sudden question.

"Are you sure." Mary is a little more pressing than usually, but is too reminded of herself in this girl.

"Yes, Mary Poppins."

Mary lets out a sigh. "Good. But should he ever try to hurt you, just call for me and I will try to find my way back to here.

Clara smile and hugs her nanny.

Mary feels a single tear slip down her cheek, but a white gloved hand quickly wipes it away.

"Thank you, Mary Poppins, even if you have not been here for very long." Clara pulls away from the older woman.

"I was so young when Mother passed - I honestly cannot recall any memory of her - but I hope she was like you, Mary Poppins."

Mary simply smiles at the girl.

She gathers the last of her things and walks out of the house, avoiding eye contact with the father as she steps through the front doors.

It is not until she is nearly a block away that she looks back and whispers to herself. "Stay strong, Clara. I'll miss you."

"She's a good kid, Mary. Wish you coulda been with her more than a day."

Mary is startled by the comment, but couldn't be happier to see Bert at her side in this moment.

She sighs. "Unfortunately, indeed."

"Oh, I haven't the faintest idea what to do, Bert. I've never been-"

Mary hesitates before both friends come in with "fired"

"Yes, thank you, Bert, I am perfectly capable of speaking on my own."

He holds his hands up in defense, taking a step away from his friend.

"As I was saying, I don't know what to do; I won't get a new charge now until I find one myself. Goodness, I don't even have a place to stay tonight."

Bert has an idea in mind, but fears Mary will snap at him for suggesting it.

"Well, I suppose you could go to Uncle Albert's." He suggests instead.

"I am absolutely not putting up with that man right now, Bert."

The sweep is noticeably saddened by Mary so easily shooting down his suggestion.

"Just say it, I know you're thinking it and I am not going to sink so low as to invite myself." Mary thinks, but instead decides to add "But it was definitely a good suggestion, Bert."

That earns Mary a smile, offering her much relief.

"Y'know, Mary" Bert laughs awkwardly, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"I mean it's basically yours too and-"

"Oh, spit it out already." Mary says to her friend, managing a much more playful tone than she would normally use for the phrase.

"I mean, we're walking in the right direction anyway."

Mary impatiently rolls her eyes, but nods knowingly to save Bert from furthering his embarrassed stuttering. "Thank you."

"Ey, what are friends for?"

A comfortable silence falls between the pair until arriving at Bert's flat.

As the two walk inside, a realization suddenly hits Mary.

"Wait, Bert."

"Hm?"

"How did you know? I mean, about Clara."

"C'mon, Mary. I woulda felt if there was a change in the winds, you know that much. You, out alone, and not on your typical free time, unless you've been lying to me all these years and have someone else you were planning to meet and I just intercepted you from him." Bert is looking to the floor as he says this.

Mary inhales sharply and places two fingers under Bert's chin, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Honestly, Bert, what kind of girl do you think me to be?"

Bert blushes.

"I am awfully sorry for snapping at you earlier, Bert. I shouldn't have led you on the way I did and then expected you to not react as such."

Bert is caught off guard by this. Mary Poppins, apologizing to him, after he pressed his advantage on her?

"Mary, you don't need to apologize, I understand. I was being too forward and…"

"Bert, honestly, it was my fault…"

"It was wrong of me to…"

"I just haven't been myself lately…"

The two friends start laughing.

"Can we agree to disagree." Bert suggests with a smile.

Mary smiles back. "Yes, let's."

She takes this opportunity to wrap her arms around Bert's neck and pulls him into a warm hug - something she has not done since they were teenagers - but it certainly serves to comfort the both of them.

Realizing he has not responded to her touch, Mary keeps her body pressed to his as she takes Bert's hands and places them on her hips then swiftly returns her arms to their former position.

Staying close to each other, the two meet each other's gaze, Mary's cheeks a little rosier than normal and Bert's face bright red.

For whatever reason, Bert's hands fall a little lower, causing Mary's face to turn almost as crimson as his own, but she does nothing to protest.

Instead, she presses her lips to Bert's.

At first, his eyes bulge, but fall shut as he allows himself to submit to all his pent up feelings for his best friend, forcing her closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Mary's hands shift to rest on his shoulders, then to his collar. Mary's mind falls blank as she gives into feelings she has long been suppressing. She leans even further into Bert's touch, as her slender fingers find the top button of his shirt, quickly working to undo it and moving to the next when Bert is now the one to push her away.

He looks stunned. She looks positively mortified.

"I'm sorry. I just, well I…" Mary uncharacteristically stutters, trailing off.

"I felt I owed you something as it is your birthday and I was utterly horrid to you earlier." She comments, staring at her sensible shoes.

"It's not like it would be-"

Finally Bert's mind catches up to the situation.

"Mary Elizabeth Poppins! What have I told you?"

"I know. I know." Mary timidly replies, still not looking up.

Bert takes Mary's hands in his own, leading Mary to the sofa.

Once sitting, Bert looks into Mary's bright blue eyes and feels his heart strain at the sadness he sees in them. Tears are threatening to fall past her eyelids and Bert places a comforting hand on her thigh, but quickly retrieves it, instead opting to take her hands back in his.

"Mary, my love, never feel you owe me anything. What I did earlier was a rash decision. I never want ya t' do anything ya don't want to, even if you think you're pleasing me."

"Oh, I know I was pleasing you. And you honestly did deserve it after I tortured you long enough into thinking I did not return the love you feel for me." Mary giggles.

Bert is relieved she isn't as sad anymore, but looks at her and is too taken aback by the first comment to process the second. Mary is much thankful he does not, once she realises she actually said it aloud.

Upon realizing where her gaze has landed, he awkwardly grabs a pillow from behind Mary.

"Ey, how unladylike of you, Mar. Keep your eyes in your own lap."

The woman responds by lying down, resting her head on the pillow in Bert's lap as she murmurs "Just to spite you. And what of the pet name. You haven't called me that since I was seventeen."

"I believe I said it on your eighteenth birthday too." Bert laughs, no longer feeling any tension between the two and strokes Mary's hair.

He thinks for a moment. "I honestly don't know, it just kinda came out."

Mary rolls over and nuzzles into her friend's torso. "Well, I like it - keep doing it!"

Mary lets out an all too audible yawn and Bert pushes the woman out of his lap.

"All right, Mar, you should be getting to bed. All are made, so wherever you wish to go."

"All are made." Mary mocks her friend. "'Cause I 'ave Mummy and Daddy's flat all to myself an' nothing t' do with it and nobody to share 't with. So I just 'ave two extra bedrooms solely 'cause 'why not' and I 'ave t' be prepared for my friends to crash 'ere at any given moment. After all, that's why I 'aven't just sold the bloody place."

Bert can't help but laugh as he stands up. "You sound absolutely pissed when you're tired."

"Well that's what you sound like all the time!"

Bert can't help but smile at that. "Is it now?"

Mary nods in response.

"Well, you still know full well there are too many memories tied to this place for me to sell it."

Mary inquisitively raises her eyebrows.

"Oh, you know what I mean. Must I remind you." Bert chuckles.

"Oh no, I can't see to recall." Mary teases. "Do tell me!"

"And, for the record, you're the only friend I would permit to stay the night."

"Oh - a friend is all I am to you?"

Bert rolls his eyes again at the woman. "Well, considering you don't even seem to remember our first kiss…"

Mary starts laughing. "Fair enough!"

Mary lay backs down on the couch.

"And what's wrong with keeping my flat tidy?"

When Bert notices Mary still laughing and making not an effort to move, he hits her with a pillow to get her attention, offering his hand to help her stand once he gets it.

She protests his offer. "Carry me, Bert." She sits up, extending her arms like a child grasping for her parent.

Now Bert was never one to deny a request from Mary Poppins.

"Okay, where to? Your old bed?"

"No, I want to stay in yours."

Bert rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night. "Of course you do."

"It's big and oh so comfy." Mary purrs as he drops her (gently, of course) onto the bed.

Bert grabs the pillow she is resting on. "But this is mine, so I'm taking it."

"Wait, where are you going."

Bert freezes and faces Mary.

She blushes. "I wanted to sleep with you."

As if on cue, both friends cringe at the comment.

"Oh, do you now." Bert manages, hiding his embarrassment as Mary also comments "No! I mean, I want to chat."

Bert walks back over to the bed, throwing his pillow back into place. "Oh, so what's your definition of chatting?"

Mary playfully pushes him away. "Come on, Bert, please?" She pouts up to him.

"Oh, fine. You're too stubborn to argue with at this time of night."

"I'm not changing 'ere though." Bert laughs.

"Oh, like I'd want you to." Mary responds, giggling to cover her blush.

Bert awkwardly clears his throat. "Do you want me to get you a nightdress from your carpet bag."

Mary scoffs as though Bert just asked the most idiotic statement possible. "Well, I would much appreciate if you were to bring me the bag, but I highly doubt you'll be able to successfully look through it."' She flashes a cheeky smile.

A few moments later, Bert enters prepared for bed himself with Mary's bag in one hand and holding a carton in his other.

"I found this in the freezer, figured it may make you feel better." Bert says handing the carton, which Mary can now read is labelled 'Vanilla Ice Cream', and a spoon to the woman.

Bert leaves the room deciding to busy himself with making some tea as he lets her change.

He emerges a few minutes later carrying two steaming cups of tea.

"Vanilla ginger black tea, I felt it fitting with the ice cream." He flashes his signature grin at her.

Mary takes her cup from Bert, holding the ice cream in her lap. "You are honestly far too good for me."

The pair sits in a comfortable silence as they finish off their ice-cream and tea. Once their mouths are unoccupied, the friends forget how to act around one another.

"Do you want me to take that for you?" Bert speaks after what seems like ages, motioning to Mary's mug.

"Oh, yes, thank you."

Once he is out of the room, Mary sits thinking about everything that happened that night - and that day - everything she has been feeling and everything she has been blocking out for years.

When Bert returns, he sees her sitting up, holding her knees close to her chest.

"Jeez, Mar, I leave you alone for a minute and this is how I find ya?" Bert laughs, trying to cheer her up. When she doesn't respond he climbs back into the bed beside her.

"Hey, love, you okay?" He brushes some hair away from her face, leading her to look up at him. He was glad to see she wasn't crying (yet), but he could still see the pain in her eyes.

Bert hates seeing her like this and wants nothing more than to pull he into a tight embrace and protect her from the world, but, especially after today's events, he knows he should just give her a little distance; he is a little afraid of how she will react to his touch.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Hm, not really, no."

"All right, love, but I am right here if you need it."

Mary offers as much of a smile as she can manage. "Thank you, so much, for everything. Not just today, but since the day we met. You've been incredible to me, even after I've put you through so much."

Surprising Bert, she leaps onto him to give him a hug and finally starts crying.

"Ey, Mary, it'll be fine. I promised I'll always protect you and I will never break that promise."

Mary pulls away, taking Bert's hands. "I know. That's why I love you."

Bert's eye widen and Mary laughs at how ridiculous he looks. "Yes?"

Bert doesn't respond.

"Bert, are you all right."

"I'm sorry did you just…" he trails off, embarrassed.

Mary giggles. "Yes." She says as she leans in to give him a quick kiss.

"Well, then" Bert begins, his face crimson already. "Mary, I'm not quite sure I can stay in here with you tonight."

Mary squeezes Bert face between her hands, getting him to lighten up. "Herbert Alfred, how ungentlemanly of you."

He gently wraps his hands around her waist, pulling her into his lap.

"Y'know, Mar, if I'm not mistaken - an' I don't think I am - you don't seem to mind very much, now do you."

Mary blushes at his comment, mostly because she knows he is right.

She looks down for a moment and Bert begins to worry that he upset her. But she quickly looks back up to him with a genuine smile on her face.

"You look so beautiful when you smile." Bert thinks aloud, staring at the woman before him.

"You're not so bad you self." Mary says, her smile growing even bigger.

"And, no, you are not mistaken. I suppose it is because I know I can trust you, Bert. There is no pretending; you love me, no matter what. You are always considerate of me when we're together." She pauses. "Well, almost always." She says with a grin.

Bert is relieved to see that she is no longer mad at him for the day's happenings.

"You are always there to help me, even if I do not need nor want any, and you continue to care for me despite being one of the few people to know all my flaws."

"You have no flaws, Mary, you are absolutely perfect. And don't correct me, I am not one of your charges; there is no practicality about you, at least, not in my eyes."

"But-"

"No" Bert interjects before she can counter his argument. "Your past is just that - you're past. It is a part of your life, Mar, but it's not a flaw. It's just what made you who you are, and I love her. Heck, I've loved her since the day we met."

"Oh, I'm aware, and all of London probably is too."

Bert looks away at her statement.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Bert, did you think you were discreet." Normally, Mary would have sounded very sarcastic making this comment, but she says it in the most gentle way, afraid she has hurt her best friend - her only friend really.

Bert lay back with his hands over his face, Mary now sitting on his stomach. He brushes them through his hair, then decides to rest them behind his head, while Mary looks on with guilt written all over her features.

Bert sighs. "I knew I wasn't discreet, but I didn't think I was being obvious."

Mary decides to move next to him so she can rest her head on Bert's chest and wraps an arm around his waist. "It's all right. I enjoyed the flattery."

She feels Bert relax underneath her. Mary leans up to give Bert a peck on the cheek.

"It's late, get some rest. Goodnight."

Bert places a kiss in her hair as he brings one of his strong arms protectively around her.

"Goodnight, my love."


	5. A Promise

**A/N: So I went on vacation about a month ago and wrote most of this chapter then so I have legit no excuse for such a delayed update except my hatred of editing (but boy did this chapter need it).**

 **This was over 20 pages handwritten and 30 typed. I thought about making it 3 different chapters, but figured I may as well just leave it how I intended it to be.**

 **Also: I should probably put a trigger warning on this chapter for reference to suicide as well as indirect references to rape.**

 **[you guys are going to hate/berate me for this, but I have logical reasons that will be explained in future chapters]**

* * *

 _Chapter 5: A Promise_

 _"A promise I made to stay and I'll stay true."_

* * *

 _23 August, 1900_

 _Bert sits atop the roof of his building - not so impressive a feat living on the top floor, but still requires some strength and nerve, and a touch of insanity. It's worth it for how soothing it can be up there._

 _"Bert?" He jumps at the sound of his name._

 _"Dear, are you up there?" He follows the voice, belonging to his mother, to the edge of the roof and peers down to see her looking up to him from his bedroom window._

 _"Comin' mum!" He calls down as he comes in through said window._

 _"Sweetheart, why must you do this to me?" his mother, Catherine, asks, clutching her chest. She is certainly a kind woman who cares more about the world than anyone Bert has ever known - he admires her for that, which is why his face softens as she continues voicing her concerns. He knows she just wants to protect him._

 _"I come into your room to say goodnight and see an empty bed and an open window. Herbert Alfred, what if you fell?"_

 _"I'm sorry, mum. Just wanted some air." Bert shrugs, crossing over to his bed. His mother sits across him._

 _"Then walk across the street to the park; I don't want you risking your life up there, especially not at this time of night."_

 _Bert smiles. "It's so beautiful! It's calmin' t' just look at the London skyline from above, with the stars blanketing the 'ole city."_

 _Catherine nods understandingly, but doesn't change her mind on the matter. "I'm sure, but I just love you too much. You can live up there once I am dead and buried, but, for now, if you 'need air' go to the park."_

 _Bert springs up. "All right! I may or may not be home tonight, love ya, mum."_

 _Before she can comment further, Bert gives his mother a quick wave, grabs his coat, and disappears._

 _…_

 _Bert walks around with his hands in his pockets, taking in the late night scenery. The moon shines high above and he can't help but marvel at the variety of people out at this time of night. Not nearly as many as during the day, but certainly an interesting bunch._

 _Bert notices a couple, probably in their early twenties, sitting out on a blanket, pointing up to the sky. He sighs at the scene._

 _"Ah, how beautiful a thing love is." He thinks. Bert has been a hopeless romantic for as long as he can remember, but has been especially aware of it in the past few years. After all, he is a 17-year-old boy - who can blame him for wanting love of his own._

 _He passes a few other strange sightings, walking nowhere in particular. A little boy runs by him, probably lost and eager to get home. He also spies a man sitting on one of the benches with his head in his hands and a woman in rags lying out on another._

 _Bert approaches a bridge - he notes that he must be near the centre of the park. He sees a figure - belonging to a very young lady - sitting on the railing, looking down at the stream below._

 _He knows he should keep his distance, but finds himself driven closer to her, whereupon he can hear her sobbing._

 _"Hey, miss, are you alright?" He asks, quietly walking over to her, trying not to startle her._

 _His attempt fails._

 _At the sound of someone so closer to her - a young man nonetheless - she panics and falls, just barely landing on the strip of stone on the opposite side of the rail, yelling and grabbing at Bert's arms, which he had instinctively wrapped around her waist._

 _He hoists her over the rail._

 _"Let go of me!" She says, desperate to sound strong, though she still has tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. She tries to shove him away once she feels her feet are safely on the ground._

 _"Ey! No need for that, miss, I'm not gonna 'urt you."_

 _Bert is hesitant to release her; he wants to help her, but fears she will run away the second he lets go._

 _Nevertheless, he frees her from his grip._

 _"See?"_

 _The girl sticks her nose in the air._

 _"'Scuse me, miss, but it's impolite t' ignore people."_

 _"My family says not to talk to strangers."_

 _Bert is initially off put by her accent. "Such a high-class accent for this part of the city." He stores in the back of his mind._

 _He looks at her gaze, trying to decipher her, and sees that tears are still steadily falling from her eyes. She must know he is staring because she tries to blink them away, but it just causes them to fall harder._

 _Bert takes a cautious step closer to her. "I don't mean t' press, miss, but, given the circumstances, somethin' tells me ya don't really care what your family thinks o' you."_

 _Finally the girl looks at him, but not without first wrapping her arms tightly around herself._

 _"Name's 'Erbert Quinton Alfred - 'aven't seen you around 'ere before. You come here often?" He tries mocking her posh accent and tips his imaginary cap to her in an attempt to cheer her up._

 _When she doesn't react, he extends his hand. She stares at it, but still doesn't move._

 _"E'rybody calls me Bert. Might I ask what brings ya out 'ere?" He continues, back to his normal cockney accent._

 _No reply._

 _"I'd feel much better calling ya by a name, miss." He tries._

 _She sits down on the pavement and Bert follows suit, moving next to her._

 _She glares at him, then sighs._

 _"Mary Elizabeth Poppins. I do not like you." She finally admits._

 _"See, Mary, was that so 'ard." Bert smiles at her._

 _"Yes." Mary looks into her lap._

 _"What about the emphasis on your surname? Don't exactly keep tabs on the who's who of the upper class Londoners. Am I supposed to recognize it or somethin'?"_

 _"Not in particular, but I don't feel it necessary to explain myself."_

 _"Now, what's a pretty girl like you doin' out 'ere this late."_

 _"I am done talking to you. As I have said - I know nothing of you and do not feel comfortable spending much more time in your presence." Mary moves to stand, but stops at Bert's next comment._

 _"Why? What did I ever do t' you?"_

 _She stares down at the boy with tears brimming and fire in her eyes. "What did you do? Never, never, touch a lady without her permission."_

 _Bert's gaze softens. He hadn't meant to upset by doing that. "I'm sorry. I normally wouldn't, but I was afraid you were gonna fall."_

 _"And how do you know I didn't want to?"_

 _That is most certainly not what Bert was expecting her to say. And, by the way her eyes widen as her entire body stiffens, she probably did not intend to say it aloud either._

 _"Well then, there are plenty of bridges in London. If you were going to try to kill yourself, I think the Thames would be ideal."_

 _"I don't know!" She snaps back to her previous composure. "This is not what I expected to be doing the night of my mother's funeral!" Mary slaps her hands over her mouth as soon as the words escape._

 _Oh. Bert moves a little closer to her. "Do you wanna talk about it. I mean, I know ya said ya didn't wanna talk to me anymore and clearly you're letting slip more than you intend to, but, like it or not, I wanna be of some 'elp; ya don't 'ave t' be afraid o' me."_

 _Mary heaves a great sigh for such a small person._

 _"The only person who ever cared about me was my father!"_

 _"'ow's 'e doin' now? I mean, with your mother's passin'."_

 _She suddenly becomes even more dejected._

 _"I wouldn't know - he's been dead nearly 10 years."_

 _"I'm sure the rest of your family cares 'bout ya." Bert offers, not wanting to upset her by inquiring further._

 _"They sure don't show it." Mary counters, putting her head in her hands._

 _As she starts crying again Bert instinctively puts his arm around her. When she does not protest, he rests his head on hers. Although it doesn't halt her tears, it's a very appreciated gesture._

 _"Well, Mary. I know we've only just met, an' I am still not entirely sure ya like me very much, I 'ope we can be friends 'cause I will protect ya. I promise."_

 _"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." comes Mary's small voice._

 _Bert nudges her to look up at him. She reluctantly obliges and Bert wipes away her tears as they continue to flow freely._

 _"But I do fully intend on keeping that promise. From the bottom of my 'eart."_

 _Bert releases Mary from his grip and the two turn to be facing each other._

 _"So, you want to talk about what brings you out 'ere, now?"_

 _"Well" Mary sighs. "It's kind of a long story."_

 _Bert takes her hands in his. "We've got all the time in the world."_

 _Mary looks at Bert with fresh tears brimming in her eyes._

 _"And if you can't find the words, I'll put the pieces together."_

 _"Well, my mother never really wanted another child after my older sister was born, so when I was born, she expected my father to almost solely care for me. Which he didn't mind because he wanted another daughter more than anything. But I was… Well when he… You see…" She trails off, trying to collect herself._

 _"I'm here, Mary."_

 _She takes in a deep breath and continues._

 _"I was therefore so close with him that I could hardly move on when he died, and I was only four years old at the time!"_

 _"Then when I was eight or so, mum met this new fellow - they were married a few years later."_

 _"My older sister is a nanny now so I never see her really anymore. Well, she is staying with me now what with my mother's death, but she's only staying the next week or so. And I have a younger sister too. Mum doted over her to make up for how awfully she raised me, which makes no sense. But I don't pretend I understood that woman. And she also has another daughter with her new husband. But she is not my half-sister. Well, I at least refuse to call her so."_

 _There is a moment of silence when Mary gets stuck on how to continue. Bert picking up on this chimes in._

 _"I see. So that's why you emphasized your surname - technically you should be Mary-"_

 _"Remington" She finishes with more distaste than Bert thought possible for someone of her demeanor._

 _"That doesn't flow quite well anyway! I much prefer Mary Poppins."_

 _"As do I." Mary replies distantly._

 _"So" Bert decides to test his luck and tries to dig a little deeper. "Now you're stuck with him as your only guardian an' you really don't wanna be."_

 _"Well." Mary begins, meekly._

 _Bert senses she doesn't want to explain more and places a gentle hand on her shoulder._

 _"'Ey - if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."_

 _"I want you to know though, what actually brings me out here."_

 _Bert smiles at her, glad to know she is warming up to him._

 _"It's not so much just because he doesn't like me." Mary says, going back to her previous thought. "I mean, of her four daughters, I was really the only one mum did not care for. I would normally just suck it up, except it is not just, well, it's not just that he does not like me."_

 _Mary looks to the ground as though she'll find the words and courage she needs to make her next statement._

 _"It is also because of what he's done to me."_

 _More tears fall. Bert squeezes her hands. A comforting gesture that doesn't stop the crying, but certainly eases the pain._

 _Bert knows she is struggling to find her words and tries again to help her along._

 _"What did he do t' ya, Mary? Did your mother know?"_

 _"Oh, no, no. He would never dare do anything if there was even the slightest possibility of mum finding out. She may not have liked me very much, but she adored him, and he had an image to keep up. The first time he ever attempted anything was tonight."_

 _"But what is it he did to you?" Bert questions, attempting to make sense of the situation. "Clearly it's 'orrid if it's the reason you're out 'ere."_

 _"It's the way he treats me… but it's not... " Mary takes in a deep breath._

 _"H-he cames into my room earlier and started talking to me, trying to console me, which is odd because he's never shown any signs of compassion to me. So I asked if he was doing this to all my sisters and he told me he wasn't. And then he said that if I screamed or told them what was happening that he would hurt me. But he did hurt me. He…" she mumbles the rest into her hands, not able to face Bert._

 _He delicately wraps his hands around her wrists, as though she was so fragile that she would break should he hold her too tightly. He pulls her hands from her face._

 _"I'm sorry, but I can't understand ya when ya mumble into your 'ands like tha'."_

 _She tries her best to repeat herself through her sobbing._

 _"He started touching me; at first it just confused me, but then when he started to…"_

 _She trails off again._

 _This time Bert's eyes widen in realisation of what she's implying._

 _"Mary, did he" Bert pauses, not even able to bring himself to say the first word that comes to mind._

 _It doesn't matter, because Mary knows why - all too well - and nods her head._

 _"You should tell someone; he should be arrested for doing that to ya!"_

 _Mary stands defiantly. "They would never believe a 13-year-old! Besides, he would make my life hell if he found out I did. I wish I could run away! From home, from him, from my problems, from my life!"_

 _"Why don't ya? Run away from 'ome that is. Not the other stuff - that's a bit much." Bert responds, standing up as well._

 _"Where would I go, Bert? I don't know if you've realised, but I would most likely not fair very well in the streets. I'm just an obnoxious brat - a rich girl who has yet to grow out of her archetype."_

 _Mary turns away from him and rests her elbows on the rail of the bridge. Bert moves in next to her._

 _"Ya know, I don't think any of that is true."_

 _"You don't know me very well."_

 _"Why are you being so difficult." He thinks, sighing. But instead responds "Do you believe it?"_

 _She stiffens at the sudden question._

 _"I'd like to think not, but that's what I always hear people saying about me, especially the past few days - all of mum's friends. So why shouldn't I believe it?"_

 _Bert smiles at her. "They're loss then. You seem incredibly carin' an' kind an' none o' those things people tell ya you are."_

 _She puffs at the comment and looks down to the water rushing underneath them._

 _"'Ey, if ya ever need a place to stay, go to 162 Raven Street instead. You'll always be welcome. Top floor; there's only one flat up there."_

 _"What's there?" She asks, still not facing him._

 _"That's where I live."_

 _Mary looks to him, finally. "Thank you."_

 _Bert reaches one arm over Mary's shoulder and places his other hand atop her's. She melts into his touch._

 _"Well what are friends for?"_

 _Mary beams at him with new tears falling._

 _"Awe, c'mon Mary, what's'a matter now?" Bert asks, concerned he upset her._

 _"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." She laughs. "I'm just happy. So, so, happy. I've never had a real friend before."_

 _"What?" Bert is dumbfounded by her confession. "But how? You're so kind."_

 _"Well, most people don't seem to think so - they think me a whiny freak that shuts everyone out of their life, remember. Besides, after father died, it was very difficult for me to trust people ever again."_

 _"Do you trust me?" Bert finds himself asking._

 _Mary looks directly into his eyes. "I hope this isn't a mistake, but I can honestly say I do."_

 _Bert lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding._

 _"Do people actually say those things to you?" He asks, more as a statement he is trying to understand than a direct question to her._

 _Nevertheless, she answers plainly. "Yes."_

 _"But you're so sweet and beautiful. I don't understand!" Bert blurts out._

 _Mary looks up at the boy holding her. "What did you just call me?"_

 _Bert suddenly processes what he just said and awkwardly clears his throat. "I, er, I said you were sweet."_

 _"No, after that."_

 _Bert feels himself blushing, but it goes unnoticed in the darkness._

 _Damn, she may be nice, but goodness is she stubborn._

 _"Oh, right. I said you're beautiful."_

 _Bert tenses for a moment when Mary doesn't react._

 _Then, Mary nestles her head into the crook of his neck, calming him._

 _Bert holds her tighter in response. "Well, like i said, I promise I'll always be here for you. Now, I think you should be getting home - it's awfully late. I'll walk you back."_

 _She tries to protest, but Bert reacts quicker._

 _"I promised to protect ya, didn't I?"_

 _The small girl nods._

 _"Then let me do this for ya - I insist. Besides, ya never know what kind of person you'll find in the park at this hour. And while I'm sure ya normally would put up a fight, after what you've been through, I don't think you'd 'ave enough energy to win."_

 _"Oh, all right." Mary reluctantly agrees._

 _"Hey, can you promise me something?" Bert inquires, taking Mary's hand as they start walking._

 _"That depends on what it is." Mary responds, playfully._

 _Bert feels relief wash over him as she lightens up. "If you ever think of coming back here, you'll come t' my place instead."_

 _Mary squeezes Bert's hand and looks up at him._

 _"That is one promise I think I can keep."_

 _One Week Later_

 _Joy awakes to someone opening her bedroom door. She rubs her eyes before looking to the source of the noise._

 _"Mary, what are you doing up at this hour?"_

 _"I really don't want to talk about it, I just need your help. I have to get out of this house, tonight, before Henry wakes up."_

 _Joy gives her little sister a confused look, but motions her over to her bed._

 _"So, you're running away, are you?"_

 _"Yes." Mary states, panic evident in her tone. "And I wanted to see if you had a bag I could take. And of course, I couldn't leave without saying goodbye."_

 _"Never goodbye." Joy holds up her hand in protest. "Au Revoir. It's what father always said."_

 _"Yes, of course."_

 _Joy sits on the floor, still half asleep. "Well, I suppose you could take mum's old carpet bag. I mean, you used to hide in it when you were little, so I'm sure it can fit plenty inside."_

 _The two laugh at the memory. Quietly, of course, as to not wake anyone up._

 _Mary sighs. "I'm afraid it isn't quite large enough, though."_

 _"Afterall, I was a small child." She adds as an after thought, smiling._

 _"Pack lighter!" Joy playfully snaps back._

 _"I can't help it! If I'm never coming back here, I don't want to regret not taking something."_

 _"You're never coming back?" Joy tilts her head at Mary._

 _"I couldn't bear it." Mary looks down. "It's not like you live here anyway."_

 _Suddenly Joy is fully awake with an idea._

 _"Can you bring the bag to me?"_

 _Mary is thankful for the change of subject and quickly sneaks back to her room and returns with it._

 _"It certainly is an ugly thing." Joy says as Mary places the bag on the floor in front of her._

 _"Nevermind that, why did you want it?"_

 _Joy takes it into her lap and places her hands atop it._

 _"I'm going to try something, Mary. Close your eyes."_

 _"Always so secretive." Mary comments, doing as instructed._

 _"Okay, open."_

 _Mary looks at the bag._

 _"Oh, it got uglier. Oh, wait nevermind."_

 _Joy laughs. "Look inside."_

 _"It's empty." Mary states, matter-of-factly._

 _Wait. She realises what she just said. "Why is it empty?!"_

 _"It's not." Joy replies with a mischievous grin. "Think of something that was in it and reach inside."_

 _Mary gives the older blonde girl a quizzical look, but reaches both hands into the bag nonetheless._

 _Her eyes widen as she pulls out her old doll._

 _"Wow, you still have her?"_

 _"Of course." Mary says, at first, sounding defiant, but her tone quickly dropping. "Father bought her for me the day he-"_

 _"Right, sorry. So, the bag - cool, huh?" Joy cuts her sister off, thinking it best to change the subject._

 _"What - oh, yes. How did you know to do this?" Her tone is back to amazement._

 _"I didn't. I mean, I hoped it would work. I've been practicing with my magic a lot since working and found that if you think really hard about something you want, anything can happen!" Joy concludes, clearly proud of her achievement._

 _"Thank you, Joy. Now, could you help me finish packing?"_

 _The girls stealthily sneak back to Mary's room to pack the last of her things._

 _A moment later, they silently make their way down the stairs to the front door._

 _"One final Au Revoir, my dear." Joy says, slightly teary-eyed, hugging the smaller girl._

 _As Mary turns to leave, she catches sight of red curls on the stairs. Joy turns as well to see her younger sister running down._

 _"Angel, please be quiet, dear." Joy bends down to her younger sister._

 _"Au Revoir, Angel." Mary adds, doing the same._

 _"But, why are you going?" The littlest girl looks up to Mary with pleading eyes._

 _Mary sighs. "It's complicated, pet."_

 _Mary opens the door to rain pouring outside._

 _"Angel, sweetie, could you pass me that umbrella?" Mary chokes out, hiding her tears._

 _The 11-year-old takes the handle of an old black umbrella and hands it to her sister. But once Mary takes hold of it, the handle turns bright green and transforms into the head of a parrot._

 _Both older girls look at the youngest._

 _Angel confidently smiles at them. "I've always watched you two practicing your powers, and, especially recently, I've practicing with mine a lot."_

 _Mary finally lets tears fall as she pulls her little sister into a final embrace. Angel smiles up to Mary when she pulls away._

 _"I may not have known daddy very well, but I know he would want to protect his little parrot."_

 _Mary brings one hand to her mouth and the other to her heart._

 _"Thank you - both of you - so much. And I will certainly miss the two of you."_

 _Mary walks to the road, umbrella up, not even daring to look back at the house for fear of fresh tears flowing._

 _The girl aimlessly walks around, her feet subconsciously bringing her to the park. She revels in the beauty of the night - away from the lights of the buildings. She rests at a bench, trying to decide what to do next, taking comfort in being tucked away in the shadows._

 _She sits in silence, alone with her thoughts, until a chilling breeze shakes her from her memoires, nipping at her._

 _Mary starts walking again in an effort to warm herself._

 _Suddenly, she stops, remembering she has a coat in her bag. She puts down her umbrella and notices the rain has lightened a bit._

 _"All right." She thinks. "Just imagine what you want and it will come to you."_

 _Even having done it earlier, Mary is proud of herself for pulling her coat out._

 _Okay. "Now how do I do this?" She wonders, folding up her umbrella._

 _Mary inhales sharply, then slowly exhales as she pushes the umbrella into the bag._

 _Nice._

 _She quickly buttons her coat. As she picks up her carpet bag, she finally realises where she is; she is standing on a bridge. The bridge._

 _"That's it!" Mary exclaims out loud._

 _She starts walking. "162 Raven street."_

 _Wait. "Where is that?"_

 _She walks out a random exit of the park and looks around, trying to find street signs._

 _Lark, Robin, Nightingale._

 _"Well that's convenient." Mary thinks, picking up speed, scanning the street signs for Raven._

 _She holds tight to her carpet bag as she slows to a stop in front of a complex._

 _"Top floor - only flat up there."_

 _Mary quietly walks into the building, minding the hour._

 _However, she finds herself frozen at the base of the stairs._

 _"Come on, Mary. He invited you, after all. Well, not directly, but he said I could come if I ever needed a friend. He's your friend! Don't be so bloody worried!"_

 _She begins climbing the stairs, nearly shaking with every step. Each flight a little harder than the last_

 _A few minutes later, she trips, making much more noise than she would like at this hour. "Get it together, Mary!" She berates herself. "Honestly, why must the universe be entirely against me right now?"_

 _She swiftly makes it up the last few steps and pauses to catch her breath. She then turns to go up the next flight when she realises she's reached the top._

 _"I've never in my life wanted there to be another flight of stairs more than I do in this moment."_

 _She hesitantly walks over to the door - the only door on this level - and finds she has somehow forgotten how to move._

 _"I should go." Mary internally reasons. "It's really late. I shouldn't be here. Is this even the right address? He just kind of said it - did I actually remember it correctly? And what if it is - what happens if Bert is not the one to answer the door? Then what am I to say: 'Your son invited me to come here whenever I want, even though we met a week ago and have not seen each other even once since.'?"_

 _She leans her back against the door._

 _"Who does he even live with? His parents? One parent? A group of people? Does he even have a family?_

 _"Ugh! Why did I even come here?"_

 _She leans her head back and accidentally bangs it, making a little too much noise in doing so._

 _But just as she is about to straighten up, she finds herself falling back._

 _Mary braces herself for whatever is to come, but still bolts upright, horrifically embarrassed when she feels herself fall into someone's embrace._

 _"Careful there, miss. Wouldn't'a opened the door if I knew you were leanin' on 't! Don't need any injuries 'round 'ere."_

 _Mary can only stare blankly at the boy in front of her as the blush on her cheeks deepens._

 _"So, what brings you 'ere?" Bert asks, motioning her inside, eyeing her carpet bag, but refraining from commenting on it._

 _"I am terribly sorry for disturbing you this late, but-"_

 _"By this hour, I'd be quicker to say 'early'!" Bert laughs. "And you're not disturbing me at all; I was just sitting up on my sofa, anyway. I love the night."_

 _Mary rolls her eyes. "Why else would you be wondering the park at midnight last week."_

 _"'Cause mum found out I'd been sneaking ont' the roof." Bert smirks._

 _Mary's visage briefly shifts to complete concern, but quickly shakes it away._

 _"I am sorry for disturbing you this late, but I need a place to stay for the night." She timidly finishes, motioning to her carpet bag._

 _Bert nods understandingly. His expression then shifts through several emotions before settling on concern._

 _"Did your, er, mum's 'usband try to…" He starts, worrying how Mary will react to such a bold accusation._

 _Nevertheless, Mary squeezes her eyes shut and nods, cringing at his comment, and the memories that flood in with it, holding tightly to herself._

 _She slowly reopens her eyes to Bert holding out his arms, motioning her into a hug._

 _Mary willingly accepts, practically jumping into his embrace._

 _She squeezes Bert perhaps a bit too tightly, but he makes no effort to move her; he knows this is all she really needs right now._

 _"May I sleep on the sofa?" Mary softly asks, pulling out of his grasp after what feels like an eternity._

 _"No, you may not!" Bert replies in complete seriousness. "I'll sleep on 't; You're a guest - you'll take my bed."_

 _Mary opens her mouth to protest, but Bert beats her to it._

 _"Sorry, miss. Not up for debatin'."_

 _Mary reluctantly sighs in defeat. "Fine."_

 _"Wow that was easy. Are you always so quick as to accept someone's requests?" The words escape his lips before Bert processes what he's saying._

 _That is, until he sees Mary stiffen._

 _"Yes."_

 _"Mary, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking-"_

 _"No" Mary blinks and tears begin to fall. She smiles up at him. "You're right - and that's why I am in this mess of a life."_

 _Bert places his arm across her shoulders and tries to lighten the mood._

 _"Well" he begins in a rather serious voice. "Welcome to my humble abode."_

 _Mary laughs at the gesture as he begins a mock tour of the flat._

 _"Now, if you look to your right, you'll see a door."_

 _"Oh, lovely." Mary feigns intrigue, finding joy in his joke._

 _"That's my brothers room." He continues. "Never enter unless you want trouble, especially not this time of night. Seven years and a pure terror - 'specially when 'e's tired. Though he does sleep like a rock."_

 _"And the next door?" Mary asks, genuinely getting into this._

 _"Washroom."_

 _"Good to know."_

 _"Mum and Da' are at the end of the 'all on the left. And across the way: my room."_

 _"Er, Bert."_

 _"Hm?"_

 _"Does your family know you invited me?" Mary finds herself awkwardly questioning._

 _"Well" Bert begins. Though, before he can say anymore, Mary interrupts his train of thought by slapping her hands over her face._

 _Bert places his hands on her shoulders._

 _"Mary, please look at me."_

 _No response._

 _"The gesture is somethin' Mum always encourages me t' extend, but you're the first person I've ever felt worthy of extending it to. So, no, they aren't necessarily expecting anyone t' be 'ere when they wake up, but all I need do is tell them I invited ya, and Mum will almost instantaneously treat ya like 'er own daughter."_

 _Mary removes her hands and offers her best attempt at a smile in her state._

 _"Your family is truly very kind."_

 _Bert smiles down at her, bringing her to his bedroom. The moment the two enter, Mary flings herself onto the bed in a rather unladylike manor._

 _Bert opts to calmly walk over to her. She sits up laughing._

 _"When a man who cannot stand you is 'Master of the House', you get stuck in a rather small and uncomfortable bed in what would probably be better suited as a closet." Mary explains when she notices Bert's confusion at such an action from her._

 _Bert pulls her into his embrace, glad to see her smiling after all she's been through. He feels Mary rest her head on his shoulder and he can't help but hold her a little tighter._

 _However, hardly a moment later, Mary snaps her head up, having felt herself dosing, still in Bert's grasp._

 _"He is actually way too kind." She thinks to herself, outwardly grinning like a fool. Her expression goes unnoticed by Bert who is reaching past her to grab a pillow. He stands up and turns to leave._

 _"Wait, Bert."_

 _The boy in question stops at the sound of his name. He looks back at Mary whose gaze now rests upon her hands in her lap._

 _"Could you actually, possibly stay in here with me tonight?" She timidly asks, shaking all over and not daring to look up._

 _"I get it if you feel uncomfortable, I understand - I do not want you to feel obligated to say yes. But, while we may hardly know each other, with what has happened tonight - and the last week or so - I would feel more at ease sharing the bed with someone I can trust."_

 _Mary's head finally shoots up as thunder cracks outside._

 _When did it start raining again? "And I am not a huge fan of thunderstorms either." She embarrassingly adds as an afterthought._

 _"Ya know, Mar, you talk a lot more than ya need to. I don't need an explanation; of course I'll stay 'ere with you, so long as ya want me t'."_

 _"My name is Mary." comes the girl's meek response as she meets Bert's gaze._

 _"I know." He smiles back._

 _"Then use it!" She playfully snaps._

 _Bert returns to her side and her head takes its place back on his shoulder._

 _"No thanks, Mar. But thanks for the offer."_

 _"'Twas not a recommendation, it was an order."_

 _Bert nudges her head up and argues in just above a whisper. "Ya know, good try, but I'm not normally one to obey many orders."_

 _Mary sighs in defeat, too tired to try to argue further._

 _Bert chuckles at her and soon she is laughing as well._

 _After a bit, Bert pipes up. "So how long do ya 'ave to stay?"_

 _"Oh" Mary is taken aback by the sudden question. She hadn't thought about that when she left._

 _"I'm actually not sure - a day or two I suppose." She wants to at least answer him._

 _"And then what?"_

 _"What?" Mary asks, playing dumb._

 _"Well I 'ardly doubt you're goin' 'ome after ya leave 'ere. So where're ya thinkin' of goin'?" Bert asks, shifting to look directly at Mary._

 _Her shoulders drop._

 _"You said yourself when we met that ya couldn't run away 'cause you're just a spoilt rich girl who wouldn't last a day on the streets."_

 _"I hadn't actually thought that far ahead." Mary admits. "I was so frazzled earlier that I just needed to get out of that house."_

 _"Well, you can stay 'ere 'owever long you want."_

 _"Bert, I couldn't intrude like that. As you were so kind as to remind me, I have nowhere to go. I may be here for years!"_

 _"Fine with me." Bert thinks._

 _"Wait what?" He says, not realising he is now speaking out loud._

 _"What?" Mary looks to him, confused._

 _"Oh, nothing." Bert replies, awkwardly. Before she can inquire further, Bert continues his previous thought._

 _"Mary, if you don't know where to go, I would feel much more comfortable having you here, than letting ya go back t' live with that man. Please, Mary, I would blame myself if anything else were to 'appen to ya."_

 _"It would." Mary comment under her breath._

 _Bert hears the comment._

 _"Exactly." He responds, holding her._

 _"Thank you." Mary hugs him back. "So long as I am not intruding."_

 _"You could never - you're always welcome 'ere, Mary. I invited you! Besides," Bert places a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I promised to protect you, Mar, remember?"_

Bert wakes up to pain in his arm. His eyes quickly adjust to the darkness and he looks down to find Mary holding tightly to him, her eyes transfixed on the foot of the bed.

"Mary?" He whispers, trying not to startle her.

His attempt fails.

Mary jumps at the sound of her name and bolts upright. Bert sits up next to her and wraps his arm around her waist to comfort her. He feels her tension release and he too relaxes.

"Mar, you all right?" He asks, not bothering to mask the worry evident in his tone.

She doesn't respond.

"Bad dreams?"

Mary looks at Bert. "Bad dreams, nightmares, flashbacks, memories, call them what you may, but it's all just so vivid. I haven't genuinely thought about it in ages and then it all comes flooding back."

Bert tilts his head.

"The night we met, Bert. Or rather, the events that led up to it."

Bert pulls her closer, hating to see his Mary like this. They have been through this before, but never as immensely as right now.

"So, ya mean like tha' time I promised I would always protect ya?"

Mary tightens her grip on Bert, if it's even possible to. He tries his best to cover his wincing in pain.

"I know, but it's just - I haven't thought about it, like actually relived the whole episode, ever. I can't even imagine what brought it on - if it was just how we were acting last night or something. What did I do to deserve this?!"

Bert's heart breaks, especially since he can hear just how hard she is trying to stay composed by the way her voice cracks.

"Sh…" He lightly pats her hair. "I know, Mary. I mean, I don't understand just 'ow 'ard it must be on ya, but I know it's there, and it's a perfectly reasonable reaction. You don't 'ave t' be strong 'round me, love. You know that."

Hearing his words, Mary thinks for a moment before finally letting her tears fall.

"I will never let anything bad 'appen to ya. I love ya too much t' allow ya to ever feel as low as ya did the night we met."

Mary pulls back to look into Bert's eyes, hoping she'll find the love she needs to comfort her. Though she does, she also sees how pained he is from seeing her like this.

"I love you too." She manages, wiping some of her tears away. "But never is a very strong word, Bert."

Bert cups his hands over her cheeks and lightly brushes his thumbs under her eyes to clear the last of her tears.

He places a ghost of a kiss to her still quivering lips. Staying merely inches from her, he addresses her in just above a whisper.

"Never may be a strong word, but my 'eart is even stronger; I made you a promise that night, now 'ere's another one: I will never break that promise."

Mary can't help smiling, no matter how much she is aching, even if she still cannot entirely believe him.

"Bert…" She begins looking straight into his eyes. Even in the darkness he can see they are red from crying.

"I know exactly what you're gonna say, Mar. I don't care if ya don't believe me or can't or whatever, I'm not takin' back tha' promise. Either of 'em."

"I know." Mary replies with a small smile and leans in to give him a quick kiss. "But I can't do this, Bert. I-I'm sorry, but I can't love you." She pulls away from him, holding her knees to her chest.

Bert reaches for her - he wants to at least hold her and comfort her if she won't let him love her - but she pushes herself a little further away.

"Please, Bert, do not do this to me. I don't even think you understand what you do to me."

"Is this because of your contract?" Bert shoots back at her, more forceful than he anticipated.

"And what of it?" She snaps in response.

Bert hesitates before responding. He knows losing his temper now would end horribly for the two of them.

"Why are you so obsessed with it?" He is much more calm, but it doesn't matter; he knows she's going to be upset with whatever comes out of his mouth anyway.

"Joy didn't have this contract issue and Angel just quit and nothing happened to her. Why just you? I want to help - I really do. You said you love me, but also that you can't love me. Which is it, Mary?"

"Please don't interrogate me, Bert. It's more complicated than you know. Because it's not just that - I'm not like my sisters - I'm afraid." Her guard is slipping.

"Afraid of what? Mary, why can't you tell me? I'm your best friend. Or at least I thought I was!"

That hits Mary too close to the heart and tears begin falling again and she subconsciously inches closer to him.

"Bert, darling, you are. Please, please, never think I don't care about you, because I do - you're the only constant in my life. I can't bear the thought of not having you."

"Then why can't you love me. And don't say it's because of that stupid contract, because I know that's not the reason!"

"Bert it is! I can't explain it, but it is! I can't love you."

She's not telling him something, he can tell - she's never this finite. "Then why did you say you did?"

"I want to, but I can't."

He hates when they fight and knows she won't back down anytime soon.

"Fine."

He's clearly still frustrated with her. She places a delicate hand on his cheek, realising for the first time that he has been crying as well.

"You're upset."

It's not a question, but Bert answers anyway, sounding much more cross than she expects. "Yes. Could the great Mary Poppins not tell."

"You know just what to do to hide your emotions from me."

"Maybe not all of them." Bert scoffs. Mary's eyes soften; she removes her hand and leaves a kiss in its place.

"I cannot tell you because, quite frankly, the reason I am so afraid is because of how much I care about you."

"Do ya know the definition of frank, 'cause that was just as cryptic as usual for you." Bert responds, much more lighthearted than previously.

She sighs. Bert can only hope that she will tell him when she is ready.

"I understand." He smiles down at her. "Now, get some sleep, love; I'll be right beside ya the 'ole rest of the night."

"I wouldn't ask for anything else."

...

The next morning, Bert wakes to the smell of… something. Something is cooking. And he knows why when he rolls over and finds his bed to be rather large and rather empty, lacking a certain nanny.

Bert walks to the kitchen to see Mary standing at the countertop, her back to him. She is already dressed for the day, naturally.

Now, Bert knows she is not one for surprises, but, in this moment, does not care. He carefully comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her slender waist and burying in face in the crook of her neck.

Mary jolts at the initial contact, but is quickly soothed by Bert's breath on her ear.

"Mornin', love."

Mary, entirely unphased, turns around to meet his gaze. "Oh, hello there, sleepyhead. I'd hardly say morning at noon, but whatever you wish, I suppose. This is, after all, your home." Mary coyly comments.

Bert choses to not respond to her insult, but rather reaches his hand up to her perfect (or she would argue "practically perfect") bun.

He slowly pulls pins out until all her brunette curls bounce across her shoulders.

"Honestly, Mary." He breathes. "I don't understand why ya don't wear your 'air down more often." Bert moves his hands to rest on her hips. "You look positively stunning."

Mary smirks up at him, closing her eyes as she leans up to kiss him.

Him, her best friend, who has been driving her completely mad as of late.

Mary's eyes suddenly snap open and she pushes him away.

"Bert, I'm sorry, I can't do this."

"Not this again." Bert sighs, looking longingly at her.

Mary takes his hands. "I tried, just now, I did, to let this work, but I honestly don't think I can control myself." She looks down to hide her blush.

Bert squeezes her hands. "Can we at least stay friends?"

"I-I suppose. Why wouldn't we?" Mary stutters, feeling less like herself than she did moments ago. "I don't want to lose you, but… It's complicated."

"What is so complicated about a man and a woman having a completely platonic relationship. Besides, it's just four months and two days, right?" Bert laughs.

Mary takes a step closer to him, their faces merely inches apart.

"Well, maybe not completely platonic, Bert."

Bert nearly beams at her comment. "So, may I?"

"Easy, but yes - please don't test me."

"Good." He murmurs, pressing his lips to her's. "Because I don't know how I could possibly go the next few months knowing how magical your kisses are."

"Me, magical? The very thought!" Mary rolls her eyes, giggling a bit. "Besides, I had a good teacher."

Bert's eyes widen as a blush creeps up on him. "Yea, let's not talk about that! Besides, this is much different." He awkwardly laughs. "It's more better."

Mary bursts at his statement. "'More better'? What are you, five?"

Bert can't help a huge grin from spreading across his face. "Why yes I am. C'mon, Mar, did you really not know that?"

"I suppose I do. I suppose that is why I love you so." She agrees.

Her mood quickly shifts to be much more downcast. "I just don't want things to be awkward between us now."

Bert's eyes widen as he snaps his fingers with an idea. "I know just what you need. One moment!"

Bert runs off to his room, leaving Mary confused in the middle of the kitchen

He reemerges a few minutes later, fully dressed, holding his bag of chalks; now she gets it.

"We're going to the park, are we?"

"Wow, Mary, don't sound too excited."

"No, Bert, I am. I promise. I'm just not in the best mood and I really shouldn't use magic when I'm like this."

"Who said these were for us?"

Mary studies the floor and Bert realises he upset her. "Sorry, love. I just figured I'd take 'em so ya got the picture." He laughs at his own joke. "An' I might use 'em later. I wasn't trying t' upset ya - I was trying t' cheer you up."

"Sorry." She still doesn't meet his gaze.

Bert walks over to her with a hop in his step.

"I know you're down today - that's why we're goin' to the park. Now, c'mon." He practically drags her to the door.

"Wait. Let me just-"

Bert pull Mary as she tries to walk away, accidentally causing her to slam directly into his chest.

"Mary, I'm so sorry."

"It's quite all right - I am quite fine, thank you."

Neither makes any effort to move.

Bert pushes Mary an arms-length way - close enough for him to still hold her, but far enough that he won't make her uncomfortable. "I have a few rules for today though"

Mary takes a step back. "This is not a date!"

Bert hardly stifles a laugh at how defensive she is. "Did I say it was?"

She glares at him, serving to quickly remove the smirk on Bert's face.

"We're just two friends going for a walk in the park. But, you are not goin' t' be in 'nanny mode' - promise?"

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

Bert sighs. "You're not taking your carpet bag."

"But-" Mary tries to protest, but Bert scolds her for it.

"You can take your umbrella - because it doesn't earn you looks and I know it holds much more importance than your bag does."

"Then at least let me take my compact."

It wasn't a question, it was a demand. But Bert wasn't afraid of her. "Nope. The only thing you love more than me is yourself and I know-"

"Exactly!" Mary cuts him off and quickly goes to his room.

She returns with her eyes glued to the little mirror.

"I knew it." Bert sighs.

"I look positively dreadful like this. Bert, why would you tell me I look good with my hair down?"

"'Cause you do - you're just not used to it." Bert closes the compact, earning him a death stare from Mary.

"Bert, I have to put my hair back up."

"No you don't. Please, you look beautiful." Bert pleads.

Mary rolls her eyes. "Stop being difficult. This isn't a date. Actually, even if it was, you can't dictate how I style myself."

"Please." Bert pouts, knowing she can't resist him like this.

She looks to the side as she replies "All right. Let's just go."

She picks up her umbrella. "But this is not a date."

"Wish it could be, but whatever you wish." Bert remarks, opening the door for Mary.

"You are honestly impossible, Herbert Alfred."

"I know. But ya still fell in love with me for it." Bert teases, locking the door.

Mary rolls her eyes, yet again, and walks ahead of him.

…

"See, isn't this nice?" Bert playfully asks. He tries to lace his fingers with Mary's, but she pulls away at the slightest touch.

"Right, sorry." He offers, returning his hand to his pocket.

She hadn't meant to offend him and tries to cheer him up.

"Hey Bert. Remember when I tried teaching you french."

Bert laughs at the memory.

"That took quite a lot of determination from ya, Mary! I 'ardly remembered anythin' ya said. Maybe a phrase or two."

They keep walking, not daring to lock eyes. A few moments later, Mary breaks the silence, speaking just loud enough for Bert to make out her words.

"Je t'adore."

He smiles to her. "Je m'adore, aussi."

Mary does not look at him, but smiles. "Cheeky."

He spots a bench under a tree.

"It's pretty 'ot out - wanna rest for a bit?" Things are quickly growing awkward between them, just as Mary feared.

"Oh, sure - that'd be lovely." She nevertheless responds, feeling the tension in the air rapidly thickening. The pair - not couple - takes a seat in the shade.

"You know, Bert, leaving my hair down was not such a bad idea afterall." Mary comments, looking into her compact.

"See - told ya it wouldn't be." Bert taunts back.

Mary glares at him, but is betrayed by herself when her lips crack into a smile. She looks around to see if anyone is near. Assured that there is no one nearby, she gives him a quick peck on the cheek and rests her head on his shoulder.

However, less than a minute later, Mary's head shoots up as someone comes walking down the path. Or rather a group of - oh great.

Bert notices her gaze now locked on 3 little children, sitting with a young woman, presumably their nanny.

"I need to find a new charge, Bert. Otherwise, I might go completely mad."

"Oh, c'mon, just one day?"

"Contract." Mary snaps back without a beat. She softens at his hurt expression.

"You wouldn't want your wife to be completely mental, now would you?"

"Right - wait what?" But before Bert's mind can actually form a response, Mary is already sitting on the other bench, talking to the nanny.

"Mary Poppins - my wife?" Bert muses. "Well, that sounds like a lovely proposal, Mary. Nah, she didn't mean it, Bert. You know your best friend; she was just tryna distract ya so she could get away."

He still can't help but smile at the thought.

"An' I'm the only person who can call Mary Poppins my best friend."

"Excuse me, sir, do you mind if my wife sits here?"

Bert looks up to find the source of the voice: a man, not much older than himself, and his visibly pregnant wife.

"Bert!"

"Daniel!"

The men say in unison. Bert stands and reaches to shake the man's hand, but Daniel rejects the gesture.

"We're practically family, Bert." He says, giving Bert a welcoming hug.

"Not practically enough." Bert laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

He turns to the woman. "What - four not enough for ya two?" He carefully hugs her as well and motions her to sit.

"It's nice to see you again, Bert."

Daniel takes a seat next to his wife and Bert stands in front of the couple.

"How long have you been in London and how long ya stayin' for? 'Aven't seen you 'round." Bert wonders aloud.

Daniel looks to the woman next to him. "Well, our house was getting a little crowded and now with one more coming, we figured it time to move and well, we both grew up in London. We got a house over on Maple Street - nice place. Only been here a week or so."

Bert beams. "Well, you must come to my flat for dinner some night - bring the kids too. Speakin' o' which, where are the little ones?"

"With Daniel's parents. They insisted we needed the break." The woman responds.

"You here with Mary?" Daniel smirks, looking to Bert.

"Well I was." He chuckles back, looking over to where Mary is now.

"They need her." The woman retorts. The men look at her, confusion all over both their faces.

"Daniel - they live around the corner from us."

Her husband is still clueless.

She rolls her eyes at him. "See the taller girl - her and the boy are twins - they're the same age as our twins so they play together sometimes. Though, I've only ever met their nanny, a bitter girl. I don't even know their parents' names. The nanny clearly doesn't like working for them. Though, I think that's because of the older two. She's only a few years older than the eldest so they don't listen to a word she says."

Bert nods. "Oh yea, I know 'em. Now that ya mention it - I've seen the five of 'em around 'ere." He actually had known since spotting them, but didn't want Mary to realise.

"Let's go say hello then, if you know them so well." Daniel mocks.

"Honestly, Daniel, may I please sit for a moment longer." His wife replies, closing her eyes and running her hands through her blonde curls.

"Of course, darling."

Meanwhile, Bert walks over to Mary.

He bends down to the pavement, where the kids are sitting.

"Hey there - do you want me to draw ya three some pictures?"

The three recognize Bert immediately and nod their heads, taking a seat in front of him as he begins taking out his chalks.

"Now, what would you three like me to draw today. 'Aven't seen you in awhile - is this a new nanny?" He smiles up to the unfamiliar caretaker.

"Last one left!" The younger sister says, seemingly proud of the statement.

"8 months though - longest yet." The older girl comments.

"In the two weeks she's been with us, she has not let us come her. Today, father found out and forced her to."_The boy squishes his face in defiance as he adds his comment.

"But your type are the reason I don't want the children coming here." The woman in question butts in.

"It is quite all right, Margaret. He is a friend of mine" Mary comments. She is always one to ease the situation.

"You sound so proud in announcing that. A nanny and a screever, friends?" The nanny scoffs. "The thought of it is enough to make me ill. Though I suppose you are not a respectable nanny since I see no charges with you."

The woman stands to seem more intimidating. The children are too captured by Bert's drawing to notice.

"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind leaving them to my care." Mary stands as well, keeping her voice level.

"They're yours!" The nanny barks back. "I'll go see if the Master is home yet so I may collect my final wages. I am sick of this family."

"A woman like you shouldn't even be caring for children if you care so little about what happens to them." Mary replies, still with a stoic expression.

"The two older ones will be here soon - good riddance!" The younger woman turns on her heel and practically storms away.

Mary turns back to Bert and the children when she sees a couple now standing behind him; Daniel and his wife have decided to join them.

"Wow, six years." Mary notes, barely audible, but the wife obviously hears her.

Mary is visibly choked up, holding back tears of - something. Of sadness, confusion, nostalgia, joy?"

"Joy."

The woman gives her a warm smile. "Mary." She feels tears coming as well. "And how is my beautiful baby sister?"

Mary resists the urge to smother her sister, instead, casually walking to her side to bring her into a hug.

"Oh, not much. I'm a nanny, you know."

Joy laughs. "Oh yes, those days." She reminisces, still holding Mary.

"I see you've been busy." Mary comments, with an grin.

"Four more at home!" That earns a shocked expression from Mary. "They always ask when they'll get to meet 'Aunt Mary'."

Mary cringes at the title. "Sorry, it's just so odd."

"Of course." Joy jokingly replies. "But I do tell them lots about you."

Mary offers a melancholy smile. "Only the good things, I hope."

"Nothing else would suffice."

Bert comes to Mary's side, joining the conversation. "And they can meet you at dinner at my flat, next tuesday. That is the second tuesday of the month is is not?"

"Yes, of course." Mary turns to him, greeted by a warm smile that thankfully cheers her up.

"Lovely - I can't wait to catch up."

"Hate to break up this reunion." Daniel places a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Darling, we should be getting home before it gets late. Good to see you Mary."

"And you as well, Daniel."

"Oh, why must you spoil all the fun. All right." Joy sulks, reluctantly taking his hand.

"'Til tuesday." Bert bids them farewell.

As the couple saunters away, Mary becomes aware of something tugging at her skirt. She looks down to see the little boy beside her, his sisters still sitting by Bert's picture.

"Hello, pet." She walks back over to the girls with the little boy following at her heels. "Good day, children. I am your new nanny." Bert smiles. He doesn't want her to leave him, but is relieved to see her finally back to her old self.

"My name is Mary Poppins."

The two girls spring up and they start shouting, along with their brother.

"I am sorry, children. Do I know you?"

"No!" The older girl calls back. "But we've heard lots of you from big brother and sister!"

"Oh, and may I ask their names." Mary looks down to her.

The littler girl nods. "Jane and Michael Banks - do you remember them?"

Mary lets out an all too audible sigh as she pinches the bridge of her nose. Bert laughs at the scene, having known who the children were all along.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake."

* * *

 **Fun fact: in the process of writing this chapter, I learned that "mischevious" is not actually a word and that I have been mispronouncing "mischievous" my entire life.**

 **\- Jillian xx**


	6. Play

**A/N: Well this turned out much longer than I had anticipated…**

 *** I did my final readthrough of this on the 4 ½ hour bus ride from Salem back to Campus like 2 hours ago, whilst half asleep, so please tell me if you see any errors or discontinuities - thanks!**

 **Pardon the hiatus, but I've had a lot going on what with starting my Freshman year of college, turning 18, and just school work in general. I also had a cabaret AND my school is held a weekend-long inauguration for our new president that I had to perform for last weekend, so yea… #musicmajor**

 **But, I'm back**

 **{I've been really anxious that because I stopped updating as frequently as when I started this story, people don't care about it, so please drop me a review if you do still care, thanks lovelies}**

 **Also, if you do the tumblr thing, im-wishingyouweresomehow-here is my url. Follow me, cause why not? ((i also semi have an ALNFWYAN tag that I use to rant about my writing so check that out {but make sure it's set to "recent posts" otherwise nothing comes up}))**

 **Keep the reviews coming!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own recognizable characters, obviously; I'm sorry if this isn't great, but I wanted to get something up!**

* * *

note about last chapter: I have not formally specified what Mary's contract is, for those of you who have been wondering about it. But, hopefully, you shall know soon...

 _Chapter 6: Play_

 _"The world is so mysterious and wild when you start to see it through the eyes of a child."_

* * *

"Oh, you think this is funny now, do you?" Mary interrogates Bert, setting her hands on her hips.

The man in question comes to her side, suppressing a laugh, but not his smile.

"Sorry, love." He replies. "Ya just look so adorable when you're frustrated; I can't 'elp myself."

Mary's voice remains level, but her tone is stern. "You knew this entire time and you didn't have the decency to tell me?" She responds, ignoring Bert's cheeky comment.

"Cor, Mary, it wasn't like tha'. I mean, perhaps a little, but ya still 'ardly gave me a moment to speak 'fore ya came over 'ere, anyway."

The nanny takes a deep breath. Bert knows her well enough to know she is close to losing her temper, and he would never forgive himself for upsetting her. He looks back at her with worry in his eyes.

Thankfully, Mary knows him just as well. She places a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"It's my own fault, not yours. Please do not worry yourself over it. We'll continue this later."

Bert offers an uncharacteristically small smile in response before the two turn back to the children. Not that they noticed the conversation, as they were too distracted by Bert's pictures.

"All right, children." Mary claps her hands together, addressing her newest charges. " What would you three like to do today?"

"Can we go here, Mary Poppins?" The little boy exclaims, pointing to one of Bert's drawings.

Before she even looks at the painting, she sends her friend a threatening look.

"Promise I didn't tell 'em; they must've 'eard it from Jane an' Michael." Bert shrugs.

Mary rolls her eyes and sighs. "Of course they did." She thinks. "I suppose they haven't forgotten about everything."

She finally catches sight of the picture. Before she even makes a comment, Bert tries to defend himself.

"I like it. An' so do the kids."

Mary holds back a response; he is certainly in for it once they are alone.

"Oh, there you all are!" A familiar voice pulls Mary's attention away from her friend.

"Goodness, where is-" the girl's voice is cut off by a boy's.

"Mary Poppins?!"

The girl follows her brother's gaze. "Mary Poppins, what are you- I mean where did you- I don't understand! Have we- oh, Mary Poppins, it is so nice to see you again!"

"Do not stutter Jane, it is unbecoming of a young lady like yourself. Hello, Michael. You should know well by now how impolite it is to stare. Though it is nice to see the two of you as well."

"Oh, Mary Poppins! It's so lovely to see you!" Michael comments, excitedly.

However, he quickly shifts his gaze to his feet

"Though I suppose it is not too lovely, because we must have done something terribly naughty for you to have to come back." Michael adds, kicking a rock in front of him.

"See, they 'aven't forgotten about you." Bert whispers into Mary's ear, knowing exactly what is running through his friend's thoughts.

"And I know you 'aven't forgotten 'bout them, either." The screever adds when he gets no response.

"Not to worry, Michael. I am here because I suggested to that other nanny of yours that I would be better suited as your caretaker; she didn't seem to mind. Unless, that is, there is something - as you put it - "naughty" you've done as of late?" Mary answers calmly, ignoring Bert's comment yet again.

"Not at all!" the boy defends. "But she was so rude to us! She was always saying how we shouldn't need a nanny with two teenagers in the house, but it isn't that easy for just me and Jane to look after those three monsters."

Mary nods. "I completely understand your frustration. However, we do not insult our siblings, Michael Banks, as tempting as it may be."

Bert gives her a knowing smirk, but Mary resists the urge to roll her eyes at him.

"Mary Poppins?" Comes Jane's voice, who is sitting with her youngest siblings on the pavement. "Could we go here? Please? It's just like the meadow you first took me and Michael to!"

"Do not beg, child." The nanny chides, taking a look around before motioning Bert over with an elegant wave of her hand.

"Suppose there's no 'arm in 'avin' a little adventure t' celebrate your return t' Cherry Tree Lane." Bert adds, already taking Mary's hand and looking longingly at her. He's glad to have her back in London.

Mary, however, keeps her eyes on the children, mostly because she knows Bert is staring at her.

Bert is snapped from his reverie when he hears Michael's voice.

"C'mon - we have to go to the fair! I know just the way!"

"Michael, do not run so quickly!" Jane scolds her brother, taking Annabel's hand.

"Do be careful." Mary calls as the five children run off. Pulling out her compact, she faces Bert, but her eyes are focussed on the mirror.

"Much better." Mary sighs, patting her practically perfect bun.

"Ah, t' be young an' carefree." Bert breathes, pulling her from her reflection.

"Honestly, Bert," she snaps her compact shut, "you're worse than the lot of them."

Though her tone is seriously, a betraying smiles plays are her lips (which, of course Bert couldn't take his eyes off.)

But the smile is soon lost.

"Bert, how could you not tell me they were the Banks children!?" Mary snaps once she is certain they are alone.

"As I said before, Mar, you 'ardly let me get a word in. Besides, I thought it would be good for you t' meet the little ones." Bert replies, a little too meekly. "Did ya even know there were more of em?"

"How would I?" Mary replies with a harsh tone. "Do you think I would have gone over had I known who they were?"

"I understand your frustration, love. I know ya always try t' block out your old charges."

Mary looks to him somberly.

"So, the kids're gone for a bit." Bert moves closer to her in an attempt to cheer her up.

Mary reaches to interlock her fingers in response, thankful for the change in conversation.

"I love you, Bert, honestly." Mary begins.

"An' I love ya too, Mary, with my 'ole bein'." Bert proclaims with a grin, bringing a hand to his heart.

Mary smiles back, placing her free hand over Bert's. "I know. But our outward relationship cannot change in public. Everything is already a bit much for me; I'm not so sure I could quite handle it."

"Don't know if ya noticed," Bert begins, looking around. "but we ain't exactly in public right now." He leans even closer to her.

Mary daringly smiles back.

"I never said we were."

Bert leans down to catch her lips in his own, savoring what he knows will only be a scarce occurrence. At least for a few more months.

Mary willingly reciprocates the kiss. He places his hands on her hips, pulling her impossibly close to himself.

"Ya know, I could really get used to this." Bert muses as the two part.

"You spoil me, Mary Poppins."

Mary inquisitively raises her eyebrows.

"Do I indeed? Then, perhaps we shall refrain from these interactions for a bit." She taunts, taking a step back, out of his arms.

But Bert reaches for her to come back.

"You're not getting away that easily." Bert laughs, teasingly pulling her somehow even closer than she was before.

Almost immediately, with the help of a forceful push, Mary frees herself from his grasp.

She wraps her arms around herself and turns away from him, eyes wide, before sinking to the grass.

"We should be getting back to the children." Mary realises, her eyes fixated on the ground in front of her.

"C'mon just a little bit more." Bert pleads, walking around her.

When Bert notices her expression, he is immediately consumed by guilt.

"Mary, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't'a-"

"It's fine." Mary stoically cuts him off.

"No it's not, I shouldn't'a done that. Especially 'cau-"

"Leave it be; I accept your apology." Mary snaps through gritted teeth.

There is an awkward pause as the tension from their conversation slowly dissipates.

"Sorry." Mary looks to her feet. "I just don't want to be in that mindset right now, so I would really appreciate you just dropping it."

"Course, love." Bert cautiously moves himself closer to her.

"Mary, I…" he trails off when Mary nestles her head into the crook of his neck.

The two sit silently in this position for a moment. Bert wraps his arm around Mary. He breathes a deep breath, trying to savour their surroundings. It smells of springtime and dew, just as the first time they were here. But it also smells of cinnamon. Or rather, the woman in his arms smells of cinnamon, with a hint of vanilla.

"Why here?" Mary mumbles. She grabs at his shirt, hoping it will provide her with some kind of emotional protection.

"I told ya before - I like it."

Mary looks up to Bert with a downcast expression.

Bert, who had by now taken to stroking Mary's arm, rests his free hand on her knee.

"It's not s'posed to make ya sad. I made this place t' cheer you up, just remember tha'."

"I do, Bert." She looks down at his hand and places hers over it. When she looks back, her eyes show a slightly less sorrowful expression, but they are still concealing tears.

"That didn't go too well, now did it?"

"Cor, Mar, are ya seriously still mad 'bout tha'?"

Mary sighs. "No, but the memory's still there. I'm not mad, I'm guilty. Like you said: you were just trying to cheer me up. And I snapped at you."

"I feel like I always get upset or something whenever you try to help, but I can't control it. I'm sorry for blocking you out so much and for treating you so poorly all the time. It's just..."

She trails off as her voice catches in her throat.

"You're fine, love. Please. I know I can't tell ya not t' feel guilty, but 't's fine. We're fine."

"I know I'm the only person you're your real self around an' if tha' means I have t' bear the brunt of all the emotions ya pretend you don't 'ave, I'll take it. 'Cause it means ya trust me; it's a way of showing me tha' you love me."

Bert places a soft kiss on Mary's hairline.

"Bert, it's not just that. Yes, I feel awful for always snapping at you, but-"

"I can be too forward;" he finishes for her. "Sometimes I do deserve the berating because I can lose control of myself 'round you."

"But ya know I'll wait as long as ya need."

"I know." Mary smiles. It's a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Thank you, Bert, really."

"I love ya so much, Mar; I would do anythin' for you."

"And I you." Mary's response is hesitant, but sincere. "I love you too."

…

"Enjoying yourselves?" Mary says, announcing her arrival to the children. She joins them on a picnic blanket they had set up.

"Why don't you tell me a bit of what's been happening on Cherry Tree Lane since I was last there?"

Though she wouldn't openly admit it, Mary Poppins always wonders what becomes of her charges after she leaves them. And this particular family is the only one which she has been with more than once.

Jane, being the eldest, tasks herself with answering the question.

"Well, obviously the twins and Annabel were born, but you know that already."

The nanny looks to the youngest, ignoring the arrogance in the teenager's tone. For now, anyway.

"I suppose then that you are Annabel?"

After receiving a small nod from the toddler, Mary turns to the other children.

"And you two must be 'the twins'. Do you have actual names, or does your mum call you by numbers, or perhaps the color of your clothing?"

Jane rolls her eyes - of course she isn't off the hook for using an impolite tone with Mary Poppins. And, of course Mary Poppins only uses a passive aggressive comment to reprimand her for it.

"They're called John and Barbara." The girl scoffs.

"Please watch the way you speak to me, Jane Banks. You may be six years older than the last time I saw you, but that does not mean you do not still have to listen to me." Mary responds with a sharp glare.

"Come on, like you didn't know their names already." Jane whines, not caring that she is certain to get another scornful look from Mary Poppins.

Mary tilts her head and blinks twice before responding matter-of-factly.

"I did not."

"Oh." Jane looks down at her feet and plays with the frills on her blue dress. "I am terribly sorry, Mary Poppins. I had just assumed you knew, because you knew me and Michael when you came last time."

"Well, you did write me a letter, signing both your names, did you not?" Mary replies plainly. Jane meekly nods in agreeance.

"Please, child, do not feel sorry for something you couldn't have possibly realised."

Michael decides to join the conversation. "Well, how did you end up back with us?"

The boy's comment catches Mary uncharacteristically by surprise. Even more out of character, she subconsciously blurts out a response.

"I walked over and found your nanny doing a terrible job and suggested I take her place - she willingly accepted the offer."

Bert takes note that she is upset with herself for letting such a phrase slip, but refrains from acting on it. He doesn't want to say anything that could make the situation worse for her.

"So, why were you not with another family when you found them?" Jane ponders on the exact question Mary wishes hadn't even come up.

As the silence grows increasingly awkward, Jane takes it upon herself to fix her mistake.

"Or are you not going to tell us because you still never explain yourself?"

Mary gives and polite nod to the girl.

Suddenly, Jane flashes Mary Poppins a scheming smile.

"I don't suppose you've measured the three of them yet?"

Oh dear. All five children look to Mary, Jane and Michael eager for an answer, and John, Barbara, and Annabel in confusion.

In response to their stares, Mary folds her hands in her lap, studying the lace of her crisp white gloves.

"You all right, Mar?" Bert leans forward in an attempt to get a look at Mary's face.

"Of course." she replies after a beat, bringing her head up.

The nanny offers a smile only Bert knows to mean she is most certainly not all right.

"I am terribly sorry, children."

She faces her charges. "I haven't a clue what's gotten into me."

While her act works completely fine on Annabel and the twins, it seems that Jane and Michael can see through Mary's bluff.

"As for your question, Jane." Mary continues. "No, I have not measured them yet. As I had no intention of taking on charges today when I went to the park, I do not have my carpetbag, nor my tape measure for that matter, on my person."

"Then where is it?" Michael's voice catches her attention, as though daring her to confirm what she assumes he is thinking.

However, she will not let herself slip again.

"At Uncle Albert's; I always stay with him when I have a free moment in London." Mary responds without hesitation.

As she says this, Bert lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. Well, inaudible to the children at least, because Mary, probably not coincidentally, rolls her eyes in his direction.

Bert laughs to himself. "Imagine what Jane and Michael would come up with if they knew their nanny spent the night at his flat."

His thoughts only read as a semi-smug grin, preventing him from drawing attention to himself. Because, as it stands, even the eldest children seem believing of Mary's most recent claim.

Suddenly, a suspicious Michael Banks is struck with an idea.

"John, Barbara, Annabel, why don't you go over to that carousel? You were saying earlier how you wanted to try it."

"An' we can still watchya from 'ere, so ya don't get int' any trouble.!" Bert pipes up, having just been plotting how to surreptitiously make the same suggestion. Also, if Mary catches onto the plan, which she undoubtedly will, he can take the blame for it instead of Michael.

This is why it comes as a surprise to all three that Mary joins into their suggestion. "Yes, run along now, children. I do want you to enjoy yourselves while we're here. We'll meet you there in just a bit."

And just like that, the twins are up and running off.

"Hey, wait!" Annabel calls, waddling after them.

"Mary Poppins," Jane begins seriously, once she is sure her siblings are gone. "What is going on with you. I don't mean to be accusatory, but you seem to be nothing like your usual self."

Mary looks at the girl inquisitively.

"Well, what I think of as your usual self, of course; I don't know what 'usual' is for you." Jane corrects herself.

Mary offers a half smile in response.

"True, I have not been very much myself as of late. I suppose one would say I've been a bit…"

The nanny pauses to look over at Bert before finishing.

"Muddled."

"What's happened?" Michael asks impatiently.

Mary sighs. She knows it would be completely unlike herself to answer such a question, but she also feels she shouldn't have to lie to Jane and Michael.

"Well, Michael. Something peculiar happened to me yesterday. You see, it was requested of me to leave my assignment."

The boys blinks back at her. "So you were sacked?"

Mary's face twists at the bluntness of Michael's comment. Bert, meanwhile, tries (unsuccessfully) to stifle a laugh in response to his friend's expression.

Mary, however, remains unfazed by his antics.

"Yes, child. I suppose you could say that."

Mary tries her best to not sound irritated, but, judging by the apologetic look Michael gives, she surmises her attempt is not well received.

"Why is the universe against me lately?" Mary muses to herself, looking into her lap and bringing her hands to her head. Bert notices her expression and wishes, if only for a moment, he could throw propriety out the window and wrap her in his arms and kiss her silly.

But Mary would have his head if he attempted such actions, especially in front of her charges, even if they are Jane and Michael Banks.

Instead, he whistles to get to to look at him and offers a sympathetic smile.

"C'est d'accord, mon cœur."

Mary sits straight up, not a hint of her former self-doubt showing.

"I'm sorry, Michael." The nanny begins honestly.

"Now, I am going to do something I rarely ever do: I am going to be frank with you two."

Bert moves closer to Mary, taking her hand to soothe her. Although he may not express it, he is proud of her for even attempting to share about herself. She may care about her outward appearance, but Mary Poppins is in no way selfish. And while that is a good trait to possess, a little selfishness can be good. But Bert knows she never likes to dwell on her past.

"Are you two married or something?" Michael unceremoniously calls out, shaking Bert from his reverie.

The friends exchange glances, both flushing a bit with embarrassment. Mary makes an effort to shift position, and Bert just holds her hand tighter.

"Michael, you must learn to control your curiosity." chides Mary. "Otherwise, you may find yourself saying something very impolite. And, no, Bert and I are not married. We're simply great friends."

"It ain't tha' simple." Bert comments under his breath so only Mary hears. All the children gather is that he said something rude as Bert lets out a small yelp at Mary squeezing his hand too tightly.

Jane smiles, a little suspicious of their claim.

"How did you two meet? If you don't mind me asking."

Even feeling bold enough to ask such a question, the girl adds the last bit to avoid being criticized for it by Mary Poppins. Much to her comfort, the nanny nods in approval of Jane catching herself.

"We met in the park." The two say in unison, quickly cutting off their statement to avoid saying anymore. They look to each other and laugh at their synchronization.

For a brief moment, they seem to forget the teens sitting across from them.

Michael seizes the opportunity to lean toward his sister.

"I don't think I've ever seen Mary Poppins laugh this much before."

"Nor smile like she has been today." Jane adds, turning to her brother. "I wonder what's gotten into her?"

"You know, children." Mary addresses her charges, still staring into Bert's eyes. "You really should not talk about people behind their backs.

She turns to see two guilty faces staring back at her.

"But for now, I don't mind."

"We're not children, Mary Poppins." Jane timidly protests.

Mary does not miss a beat in her response. "Well you are certainly acting like children."

"As I was saying," Mary continues, unwavered "we met in the park some time ago and became friends immediately."

"Almost immediately." Bert corrects. Mary rolls her eyes at him.

The screever smiles a toothy grin back at her.

"An' we've been best friends eva since."

"Interestingly enough, a year to the day after our first meeting was the first time Bert drew this very place." She motions to the air.

All three face Mary - yes, even Bert - shocked by her eagerness to keep sharing.

Mary picks up on their surprise. "I have been finding it rather...alleviating to talk about my past as of late."

Bert raises an eyebrow at his friend. "So 't seems."

"Though, not quite everything." He adds under his breath. Though, it is moreso just to keep the children from pressing, for he knows that no matter what, Mary Poppins will most certainly hear him.

"Not now." Mary mouths back to her friend with a harsh, yet somehow sympathetic, glance.

Jane and Michael look at the two with confusion.

"Pardon us, children." Mary states plainly.

She clears her throat and nods to Bert. He smiles to her, then to the kids.

"My bad - just said somethin' I shouldn't'a."

This seems satisfying enough for them. Well, at least for Jane.

"So why did you create this place, Bert? I mean, was it for you and Mary to celebrate your friendship or something else?" She asks innocently.

Bert opens his mouth to respond, but finds himself instead turning to Mary for help. The answer is rather simple, but he fears he will let something slip that Mary would never forgive him for.

The woman in question, sensing his turmoil, scoffs at him.

"Oh, if I must do everything myself." She says in her typical semi-impatient tone.

She looks to Jane and Michael and takes a deep breath.

"The day Bert and I met wasn't a day I like to remember, aside from meeting Bert of course. And even that sometimes I regret." She laughs. Bert laughs too, but his is genuine; Mary's is more of a nervous laughter.

"So, when that day came the following year, I found myself-"

"Actually, I believe I found you." Bert interjects with a smirk.

"Would you like to tell the story?" Mary quips.

Bert defensively holds up his hands.

"'Course not, love. Back t' you."

Her eyes sharpen at his slip. "As I was saying."

Mary softens her gaze. "I found myself rather upset, so Bert told me to 'find my happy place' and he'd draw it for me. That way, whenever I felt sad, I could just look at the picture."

 _23 August, 1901_

 _"Wow, Bert, it's beautiful!" Mary squeals, practically flinging herself into her friend's arms._

 _"Glad ya like 't." Bert rubs the back of his neck, blushing a bit._

 _"I wish we could actually go there!" Mary sighs._

 _Suddenly, the little girl straightens up with an idea._

 _She swiftly places Bert's sketch book between them, then takes both her friend's hands in her own._

 _"Mary, what in the-"_

 _"Just close your eyes and relax." Mary interjects his confused remark._

 _"Can ya at least tell me what you're plannin' t' do?" He responds._

 _"If I told you, you'd think me mental."_

 _"I already do, love." Bert replies rather cheekily._

 _He closes his eyes and suddenly feels a tingling sensation in his stomach. He takes a deep breath to relax._

 _However, in doing so, he smells flowers and grass mixed with a cold dew, like the atmosphere right after it rains._

 _"This is definitely not my bedroom, anymore." Bert thinks, a bit afraid of what he'll see when he opens his eyes._

 _Once he does, he is immediately met by Mary's sparkling gaze. Her crystal blue eyes appear to be shining brighter than usual, and Bert feels it is more than just because the world around them had turned to shades of grey._

 _Speaking of which, Bert reluctantly peels his eyes away from Mary to marvel in the world around them, just as he had drawn it._

 _"I'm still gettin' used t' this 'ole magic thin' of yours!" Bert exclaims, picking one of the leaves off the willow tree they stand under. He blows at the leaf and it turns to dust, blowing into Mary's face._

 _Mary can't resist laughing at his actions, even if it does cause her to let out a small sneeze._

 _"Honestly, as am I! This place is lovely, Bert."_

 _He smiles broadly at her comment._

 _"Although," Mary takes his hand and rests her head on his shoulder. "I think this would be a lovely spot for tea."_

 _Bert chuckles and squeezes her hand._

 _"I'll try t' remember tha' the next time we come 'ere."_

 _"So, there can be a next time!" Mary looks to him excitedly._

 _"'Course we can! I mean if ya want to 'cause you're the one with the magic." Bert pulls Mary into his embrace._

 _"Could you draw it up in colour next time, too?" Mary asks into his shirt._

 _As muffled as her question is, Bert still hears her, and would most certainly never deny a request from his dearest friend._

 _Bert places a soft kiss in her hair._

 _"Anythin' for you, Mary."_

 _After a minute or so, Mary pulls out of the hug, retaking Bert's hands._

 _"I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, Bert. I really do." She takes an abrupt pause, trying to find the best way to proceed._

 _"But, 't's no use, 'cause…" he continues for her, sensing her apprehension._

 _"It's quite an awful day for me to think about." The girl responds, coming close to losing her temper, but trying her best to remain calm._

 _"I get tha', Mary. I do." Bert wraps a comforting arm around her._

 _"But don't think of it as the day all the bad stuff 'appened. Just remember tha' it's the day we met. Not why we did, just tha' we both found our best friend that day."_

 _Bert pecks another kiss on the crown of her head. Mary turns away from him._

 _"I can't just forget something like that, Bert. It's a part of me now - a part I can never change." Mary forcefully answers back._

 _"Mary…" Bert is cautious in addressing her._

 _"No - don't! You say you understand my anger and sorrow and everything, but you can't possibly comprehend it."_

 _Mary's voice remains relatively level, but her porcelain face is growing redder with anger, a reaction that serves to intimidate Bert more than raising her voice ever could._

 _"You pretend that I can act like nothing happened to me! Everything I did is engrained in my memories forever. Because it did happen, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life."_

 _Hot tears are stinging her cheeks, and her voice is gradually getting louder._

 _"I wish I could just blink away my childhood, but I can't - I'll never be able to! Think about that the next time you get the urge to help me 'cheer up' because this is not something I can just let go of."_

 _Bert, wanting more than to just draw all the sadness out of Mary, decides to act without thinking; he pulls Mary close to him and kisses her rather fiercely, as though doing so will transfer all her negativity to him._

 _"Herbert Alfred!" Mary shouts, pushing him off her._

 _She has officially snapped._

 _"What did I tell you but a year ago today? Never touch a woman without her permission, let alone kiss her!"_

 _Bert stammers to find an excuse for his actions, but this only fuels Mary's anger._

 _"Don't try to give me an excuse for what you just did, Bert. That was disgusting, even for you. You must be positively mental to think that would make me feel better, especially when you know the reason I feel so bad right now."_

 _Bert reaches to cradle her face, but she swats his hand away._

 _"Coming here was a mistake. It's done the opposite of help me, Bert."_

 _With her last comment, Bert and Mary are back on Bert's bed. Mary looks to her friend, her best and only friend, and feels a tug on her heart from the pain and guilt she sees behind his eyes._

 _But it does not phase her enough. She is still angry with him and pushes the feeling away, something she has already become accustomed to. She lets out a heavy sigh before storming out of the room, slamming the door closed behind her._

"I am still sorry about that, Bert, you know." Mary sighs after finishing her story.

"Not this again. All's fine." Bert offers in response. "'Twas my fault entirely, love."

"Again with the love." Mary mentally berates him. And then, she realises she let something slip too. As did the children.

"So you two have kissed before?" Michael looks between Bert and Mary with wide eyes.

"Oh, many times." Bert says, a little too cheekily, at the same time Mary gives a harsh "No."

Bert mentally smacks himself. "Whelp, I'm dead."

And he thinks right, or at least close to right based upon the look Mary is now giving him.

"Right," Michael skeptically plays along. "but you two are just friends."

"Precisely" Mary plainly replies, too impatient to play into this game. Thankfully, Jane comes to her rescue, even if it is in a less favorable way than Mary would have liked.

"What is it that happened to you, if you don't mind me asking?" Jane inquires, looking to Mary as though she will be able to find the answer in the nanny's eyes.

"I would prefer not to answer that." Comes Mary's response with a sympathetic look, complete with a smile only Bert can tell is forced.

"Now," Mary claps her hands together, standing up. "I believe we promised John, Barbara, and Annabel we'd meet up with them. So, come along now, spit spot."

With that, she walks off to where the youngest had run before. Once Jane and Michael are certain Mary is gone, they turn to Bert.

"Not today, kids. This one's most definitely up to Mary t' choose whether or not you two get t' know." Bert replies sternly - as sternly as he can manage that is - anticipating exactly what they would ask him. They always try to get information about the mysterious woman that is Mary Poppins, but, even on the rare occasion he lets something slip, Bert never gives much information on her besides "we've been friends a long while" or "she's been through more than you'd guess."

Today, the siblings look down in defeat, having been shut down before they could even inquire.

"'Ey, if it makes the difference," Bert stands, motioning for them to do the same. "It's not somethin' Mary really talks about; it's not just 'cause you're 'er charges, or 'cause you're too young or somethin'. I'm one of the only ones who actually knows what 'appened. An', actually, Mary didn't even intend t' tell me when she did, but since she did, I knew even before 'er sisters did."

Bert smiles a satisfied grin at his justification, hoping Jane and Michael will let it go.

However, it quickly fades when he realises he's just broken the one rule Mary has when it comes to him talking about her: never mention her family.

Jane and Michael exchange an excited glance as this runs through Bert's head; nothing gets by these two.

It's Jane who ultimately snaps Bert back to reality.

"Mary Poppins has sisters. You mean, there are more of her?" the girl smiles.

"Sorry, Miss Jane," Bert dismisses her, "I know you're probably very curious now, but I've already said mo' than I shoulda."

"Oh, all right." Michael, who was eager to hear Bert's response, kicks the ground. "But I still want to know what happened in her story."

Jane hastily tries to correct her brother.

"What Michael means to say is that it's too bad we don't know what happened to Mary Poppins. Maybe someday she will tell us."

Michael makes a face at his sister. "If that was what I meant, I would have said it."

"Well, it was a very rude thing to say!" Jane berates, raising her voice.

"Well, you're being rude now by putting words into my mouth!" He snaps back, trying to shout above her.

Bert loudly clears his throat to gather their attention. "Please, you two're teenagers now - don't be behavin' like this. 'Sides, Mary can probably hear you with how loud you're shouting."

"Now, c'mon. If we don't join the others soon, Mary will surely have it in for all three of us."

Michael sticks his tongue out and Jane rolls her eyes as the three start walking, Bert separating the siblings.

He eyes them both to be sure they are behaving themselves.

"I'll tell ya two, 'owever, that this is much mo' than Mary's ever shared with someone since she's been nannying. But what 'appened to 'er, that's really personal, an' also generally 'ard for 'er to talk about to anyone, even me. Just thinking about it makes 'er uncomfortable."

Jane and Michael nod understandingly.

"Promise me you two won't prod 'er." Bert hastily says to them as they approach the carousel.

The eldest siblings mumble a quick "promise" in response.

Mary tsks at the sight.

"Well, that took you a minute. What secrets have kept you?" She peers down from her spot atop her purple horse.

"Pray tell - why such a while to follow behind?"

"Nothin' that concerns you, Miss Poppins." Bert smirks back. "Just lolligaggin' about's all."

She gives him an extra skeptical glance before she retrieves her typical soic expression to address the children.

"All right. It appears to be nearly tea time and I don't think your mother and father would appreciate you five returning home past supper on my first day, now would they?"

"I suppose not." Jane sighs, slouching her shoulders. However, she quickly realigns her posture when Mary Poppins calls her name.

"It's not fair." Michael whines.

"Honestly, Michael, stop your complaining." Mary looks to him with a very stern expression. "I never said I was fair. And, quite frankly, you sound worse than your brother."

"Ha!" John teases back, which earns him the same look from Mary.

"We do not make fun of our siblings either, John Banks, as tempting as it may be."

Bert can't help stifling a laugh at her last comment.

"You're no better, Bert, and you know it."

"And you are?" Bert playfully answers back.

Mary just rolls her eyes at his immaturity. Jane and Michael slyly exchange a knowing glance.

"Do you understand, John." The little boy nods in defeat.

With a satisfactory grin, Mary claps her hands.

"Well then, now that we've got that all settled, let's all get along home."

Mary picks up Annabel and takes John's hand with her free one. He takes a firm grasp on Jane who already is holding tight to Barbara. The little girl reaches up to Bert's big hand with a huge smile. He returns the smile and turns to Michael.

"Ya know, we could always come back 'ere; I can draw it whenever you'd like."

The man offers his hand to the boy. Michael takes it with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I may have to take you up on that offer."

Just as quickly as they arrived, the seven now stand in the park next to Bert's pictures.

"Today was quite lovely, Bert, all of it. Merci beaucoup." Mary says to her friend, politely bowing her head to him.

"I should be sayin' 'merci' t' you, Mary Poppins." The screever smiles broadly at his dearest friend, taking her hand and brushing it against his lips. At this gesture, Jane and Michael exchange glances yet again, the twins turn away in disgust, and Annabel doesn't even seem aware of the situation.

Mary smiles back to him.

"Come along now, children. Spit spot!"

She begins the familiar walk back to Cherry Tree Lane. Bert watches the figures slowly fade away.

"Au revoir, Mary Poppins. Je t'adore." he calls, hoping she somehow gets the message.

He collects his chalks before skipping off back home, whistling to himself.

Across the park, a small smile plays at Mary's lips; of course she hears him. And if his hearing was anything like her own, she may have actually called back.

But it's not, so she doesn't.

Instead, she lets the smile grow as she gets lost in her own thoughts.

"Bert Alfred, you are by far the most difficult child I've ever had to put up with. And I love you for that."


	7. The Storm Inside

**A/N: Hello, lovies. I'm so sorry for being MIA for 3 months (finals, the freshman dorms being set on fire, tearing my acl, reading more than normal, readjusting to school) so I haven't been writing as much as I would have liked, but I'm back!**

 **That being said, this is not my best, but it's mostly a filler/set up for chapter 8!**

 **So, to the story.**

* * *

 _Chapter 7: The Storm Inside_

 _"You are the only one who hears my cries; you bring me from the darkness to the light."_

* * *

"Winifred," the master's voice booms through the small space of his study, "what is the meaning of this?"

With five children in the house, George Banks quite frequently loses his temper, rendering Winifred unphased by his tone. Instead, the accused woman places her hands on her husband's desk and leans in closer to him.

"George, dear, I've told you exactly what Margaret told me. She met someone in the park who offered to watch the children, so she came here to inform me of such and to collect her final wages."

George pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a heavy sigh. He knew something would I wrong when he hired someone as young as she.

"I understand that, but did she give a name? Are we supposed to just believe the children are safe?"

"Well, I-I guess." Winifred stutters in reply. She may not be afraid of her husband anymore, but he is certainly growing a bit more intimidating than normal.

"Well, what are we to do now?"

George stands from his desk and walks over to his wife's side.

"I'm not sure, dear." the woman replies, regaining some semblance of composure.

"We've been through at least a dozen nannies since Annabelle was born. Things have not been this bad since-"

"Since before Mary Poppins came here." Winifred finishes for her husband.

As though on cue, there is a knock on the front door. Ellen is the first to act upon answering it.

"Well I'll be damned! If it isn't Mary Poppins!" the maid exclaims, surprised to see the nanny back on Cherry Tree Lane. "Please, come in!"

Mary steps inside and meets George halfway to his study.

"Good evening, sir. I trust that Margaret has been to see you already?"

The self-proclaimed sovereign of the household merely nods in reply, or in intimidation, or perhaps both.

"Good. So you know she suggested I take over for her. As you already are aware, I shall have off every second Thursday. We may discuss my wages tomorrow."

Mr. Banks clears his throat to buy himself time to think up a reply.

"Of course." He ends up declaring. "Just as I was about to suggest."

"Good evening, children." He continues before turning to go back to his study.

"Someone knock when dinner is ready."

"It's nice to have you back, Mary Poppins." Winnifred adds.

"It is actually rather nice to be back, ma'am." Mary replies with a slight nod in the mother's direction. She then ushers the children upstairs.

"Well, you are not my nanny and I take it you can find the nursery on your own, so if you don't mind me going to my room, knock when we're eating." Michael boasts, stopping in front of the first door on the landing.

"I actually do mind, Michael." Mary states in reply. "I shall like to have a word with you."

"You as well, Jane." the nanny turns to the eldest child. "I would like the two of you to change and meet me downstairs."

Michael stamps his foot in protest.

"But we haven't done anything wrong!" the boy whines. "Can't you just get settled into the nursery and leave us be. I'm a teenager now, you know; I'm too old for a nanny."

"I'd beg to differ, if you are to continue behaving as such, that is." Mary counters, raising her eyebrows as a warning. "Besides, you are not in trouble."

"And I can't very well 'settle into the nursery' without my carpet bag."

Mary didn't necessarily want to revisit that topic, but it helped her make a point. And she notes it successful when Michael crosses his arms in defeat.

"Very well then. Now, John, Barbara, Annabelle, let's get you three washed up for dinner. Jane, Michael, I'll be down in 20 minutes."

She takes Annabelle from Jane's arms and turns to make her way to the nursery, the twins at her side.

Not wanting to face disapproval from Mary Poppins, Jane and Michael are both settled downstairs before Mary comes down (which was actually about three minutes earlier than promised.)

"First order to address," Mary begins after bringing the youngest three to the dining room, "as Michael, rather kindly, pointed out to me, you two are too old to need a nanny. I'll refrain from adding my own thoughts to that statement, but I want you to think of me more as a friend now."

The siblings stare back at the woman before them. Mary Poppins, a friend?

"I understand this may sound surprising, but a lot has happened in the last six years and I think it would be better for all three of us if you abide by my request."

"Now," Mary claps her hands together, successfully shaking Jane and Michael from their trance-like confusion, "I am sure you have many questions about earlier. There is no guarantee I will answer all of them, but feel free to at least ask."

Michael perks up at this, but is stopped before he can get a word out.

"I should mention, before you waste your breath, I will not be telling anymore of the day I met Bert." the nanny chides.

Michael's first reaction to this is to hang his head in shame, rather embarrassingly, though after but a moment, snaps it back up with a new question to ask.

"Why were you sacked from your last assignment?"

"Michael, don't be rude." his sister reprimands in a very Mary Poppins-like manner.

"All is well, Jane." Mary smiles at the girl. It isn't quite as warm as a smile she would give to, say, Bert, but it is much softer than the demeanor the Banks's are used to seeing her with.

"And, if you must know," Mary sighs, "I forgot myself for a moment too long and the father didn't appreciate it."

"Well, what does that mean?" Michael wonders in an annoyed tone, earning him a look from Mary that could only mean 'you are much too old for that.'

Jane, however, is the one to verbally scold him for it.

"Mary Poppins never explains herself," Jane glares at her brother "so don't take advantage of her opening up to us by prying."

Mary closes her eyes and gives a small nod of approval.

"While that is very true, Jane," Mary pauses to look between the boy and the girl "but that is the very reason I was asked to leave."

"Because you wouldn't explain yourself?"

"Precisely, Michael." Mary motions the two to stand.

"Well that, and I may have been a little rude to the father, but it was only because he was pressing me."

Of course, Jane and Michael are left wondering what she means, but neither is courageous enough to ask; the statement was less informatory and more cautionary.

"Now," the nanny claps her hands together, "I believe you two should head into the dining room."

Michael practically runs out of the room at the thought of food, while Jane lingers a moment in the doorway.

"Don't dawdle." Mary calls before even turning to face her.

"I'll tell father you'll be back in time to get the little ones in bed."

"Back?" Mary scoffs, caught off guard by the suggestion. "And where might I be going?"

"To fetch you carpet bag, of course." Jane smiles.

Mary sighs in defeat. "I suppose I should, shouldn't I?" She continues, thinking aloud. "I couldn't very well sleep here without it. All right."

The nanny grabs her coat and stops at the front door.

"I'll be back in but a moment."

"As expected from you." Jane responds. "And do tell Bert we miss him terribly around here."

"Excuse me?" Mary freezes in the doorway.

"Well, the last few nannies we've had didn't want us spending time with someone like him, so today was the first time in a while we've seen him more than a minute or so."

"I understand that," Mary turns warily, "but I don't intend on being gone for very long, how would I see him."

If Jane was nine years old still, she may have believed Mary's cover. But it's been six years since Mary was last on Cherry Tree Lane and Jane is much more keen.

"The others may have believed you, but I didn't." Jane explains. "I don't think anything of you for it, if that's why you felt the need to lie to us, but I know your things are at Bert's. Afterall, that's why you two were together this morning."

Mary expression sharpens.

"I'm not sure I like what you are implying, Jane."

Before Jane can respond, Winifred's voice is heard calling from the dining room. "Jane, dear, do come to the table."

"Listen to your mother." Mary warns, using a much nicer tone than just before.

"Mary Poppins, I am very sorry. I meant nothing of the sort. I just-"

"Your tea will be cold, Jane." Mary says, cutting off the girl's ramblings.

"Yes, Mary Poppins." Jane accepts in defeat, her visage losing all signs of its previous giddiness as she turns to follow her mother's voice.

"Dear"

Jane turns back at the sound of Mary's voice.

"Between you and me," Mary starts with a small smile, "I will pass along your message to Bert."

With the joy back in her face, Jane runs over to Mary to give her a hug. Before Mary even processes what has happened, the girl is skipping off to the dining room.

Mary's lips curl into a full smile and she closes the door, preparing herself to walk the familiar streets of London.

…

"Jane knows." Mary complains, rather out of character.

Bert laughs at her bluntness. "Clever one she is. Not surprised at that."

"It's not funny, Bert!"

"Don't tell me you're concerned 'bout what those kids think of you. You coulda, I don't know, killed that other nanny of theirs, and they'd praise you for it." Bert retorts.

"Don't even start with me." Mary dismisses, waving her hand at his comment. However, a melodic giggle does manager to escape.

Bert walks behind Mary to wrap his arms around her.

"Y'know, I simply adore that little laugh of yours." he draws out his words, practically breathing them into her ear.

However, she steps out of his embrace.

"Bert, I shouldn't even be here!" Mary scolds, though keeping a playful tone in her voice.

That being said, Mary holds up a single finger to signal a quick return and disappears into his bedroom.

A moment later - though a moment longer than one would expect Mary Poppins to take to retrieve her carpet bag from the room over - she reemerges, bag in hand.

"Pardon me, dear, but I really must be on my way." Mary extends a delicate gloved hand to Bert.

He gladly accepts it and escorts her out the door.

"At least let me see you safely down the stairs, love." he coos.

Mary smiles with a hint of a blush playing at her cheeks. "Now, how could I deny such a gentlemanly request?"

The two manage a minute in comfortable silence before an apology burns at Mary's lips.

"I'm so sorry for being out of London for six years."

The sudden comment catches the man off guard.

"Don't be, love;" he soothes "that's outta your control."

Mary hesitates before answering "not entirely," in just above a whisper.

"And before you ask," the nanny hastily continues, somewhat louder, "yes, it was something about my contract, sort of, and I know we don't have time for this now, but I wanted you to know I do plan to talk to you about it when I'm ready, I promise."

Though he had been following everything she was saying, those last two words Mary says stand out the most and make his smile.

Mary Poppins never makes a promise she cannot keep.

"For now, I felt at least an apology was owed to you."

The pair pause at the bottom of the staircase. Bert briefly brushes his lips against hers.

"What did I tell you about 'owin' me' anythin'?"

"This is actually do; you've been there for me through everything, and I couldn't be more grateful for that...for you."

Bert nods understandingly. He can tell she's about to go off on another tangent and takes her hands as a sign of support. When she gets like this, he knows to just let her speak.

"As open as I've been with you, I still feel I've always kept a part of me hidden. But now," Mary takes a deep breath of courage, "I've realized I can't keep running away from my problems, and soon, I think I'll be ready to tell you everything. I just need to find the proper words to do so."

"I'll tell you one thing now."

Mary squeezes Bert's hands and looks straight into his eyes as she address him.

"12 years ago," Mary begins warily, "you asked me something I told you I could not answer. Well now, I think I finally am ready to, and the answer is yes."

Mary smiles before reaching up to give Bert a kiss farewell.

Bert is confused by her answer, but no so much by the gesture, which he has already instinctively responded to.

He cannot seem to recall what question she is answering.

However, Bert chooses not to dwell on the subject. Right now, he has a beautiful woman kissing him silly.

He pulls her closer to him; if he doesn't know what's going on, he does at least know he never wants to lose her.

What Bert doesn't realize is, if he was not distracted by Mary's lips on his and actually considered how old they were 12 years ago, Bert would have immediately know the question she was responding to.

Once the two part, they stand in tranquility, both lost in each other's eyes.

"You should be off." Bert suggests, shattering the silence. He pulls Mary into a final embrace before sending her out the door.

"'Til Thursday, love."

"Until Thursday." Mary purrs in agreeance.

Mary retreats to the cool summer dusk, while Bert heads back up to his flat. He has a new spring in his step and hopes it will be enough energy to get him through his meeting with the sweeps tonight.

The first thing Bert does upon returning to his bedroom is place his pocket watch on his mother's old vanity, so he cannot forget to do so later.

His father left it to Bert when he died, and he would never risk losing it while up on the rooftops.

He notices his mother's old jewelry box sits open on the table. Bert wonders for a moment if something was stolen, but quickly shakes that idea away.

"How could anything possibly be gone?" he ponders aloud.

"Mary's the only one who's been in 'ere since I last was and…" he trails off, looking now at a photograph kept on the vanity.

It is a classic family portrait: Bert's father stands resolutely behind Bert's younger brother, his right hand resting on the little boy's shoulder. Beside them are Bert and his mother. Her arm is draped across him, her left hand resting on his shoulder.

Bert picks up the frame to take a closer look at it before looking out the window, a smirk spreading across his face.

"You are quite the clever one, Mary Poppins." he laughs, shifting his gaze back to the jewelry box, a little more focused than before. This time, he knows what he is looking for.

"Quite a clever lady indeed."

There is only one reason Bert was the one who held onto his mother's wedding ring.

And, of course, Mary Poppins remembers just as well:

to give it to her.


	8. Home

**A/N: Around 24 hours ago my stomach decided I didn't need sleep so, I'm sorry, but this was edited by someone who's been awake for 40+ hours (and who hasn't eaten in about 36)**

 **I was hoping to have this chapter up by the end of February, but I'm an anxious college freshman with no concept of time**

 **But, it's here - so enjoy!**

* * *

 _Chapter 8: Home_

 _"What I'd give to return to the life that I knew lately, but I know that I can't solve my problems going back."_

* * *

 _Dear Reader,_

 _This is your journal and should be used as such. However, by opening this, you have officially been documented as signing your contract, and some rules are to be upheld._

 _You are to stick solely to your appointed position of servitude_

 _Your Position: Nanny_

 _You must serve every day from your 18th birthday (today) until your 30th birthday, unless given off by your master_

 _You have a 24 hour window between assignments to do with what you please_

 _Should you be requested to leave an assignment, you will not receive a new one and must use this window to find another worthy family on your own_

 _You must not use your powers for harm_

 _Unless it is for the good of your charges_

 _You may not deny your relocation_

 _You will be given multiple suggestions upon your departure_

 _You cannot be married_

 _Nor engage in any activity one would equate with marriage_

 _*Should you die under your contract, the normal laws of magic still apply_

 _If any of these rules be broken, you will be relinquished of your powers_

 _Best Wishes_

 _…_

 _"Hey, Mar, what'ya got there?" Bert asks, walking over to the window where Mary is standing._

 _"What, oh nothing." Mary dismisses the comment, slipping the journal into her carpetbag. Her tone indicates to Bert that she didn't immediately register his question, and he begins to worry. If there is one thing Bert can tell about his best friend, it is when she has too much on her mind._

 _"Love, is everythin' all right?"_

 _"Of course," Mary replies, a little too absent-mindedly, spinning around. "I just, well, I'm leaving."_

 _Bert's expression drops. Not only does he not want her to fall out of his life, but he knows that once she leaves, he'll no longer be able to protect her. The latter is what causes him more concern._

 _"Where are you goin'?"_

 _"I don't know." Mary thinks. However, she refrains from admitting this because it would be an unsatisfying answer to Bert, which would worry him even more._

 _Instead, she tells him she is to be a nanny like her sister._

 _"But that's not fair." Bert blurts out in reply. It's a weak argument, obviously, and sounds very childish, but his mind is spinning much too fast for him to be able to think up a better reason._

 _"Everything will not always go your way in life, Bert." Mary moves to exit the room, but Bert blocks the doorway. She tries to get past him, but is too small to compete._

 _She lets out a frustrated groan._

 _"You are being so childish, let me through!" Mary practically shouts. She shoves Bert out into the hall, him being too taken aback by her tone to protest._

 _Mary storms out of the flat, briskly grabbing her coat on the way. She starts running down to the street as Bert calls after her anything he can think of that might make her stay._

 _"Mar, please, if you're really going, the last thing I want is to part ways on bad terms." the boy offers, taking Mary's hand._

 _The girl gives his a reassuring squeeze before letting go. For a moment, Bert thinks, it looks as though Mary has tears behind her eyes. But, if such a picture did present itself, Mary had blinked them away before Bert could be sure, lest they fall._

 _"Bert, please dear, there is absolutely nothing you can do to make me stay; don't make this more difficult than it need be."_

 _"Absolutely nothing?" Bert ponders, still a little hopeful._

 _Mary gives but a somber smile in response. She doesn't want to leave, but knows she cannot change her fate now. She gently places a hand to Bert's cheek, then leans up to give him a brief kiss farewell._

 _Mary opens her umbrella fully and holds it over her head._

 _Absolutely nothing_

 _And idea pops into Bert's mind and he somehow knows, as the wind picks up around them, that this is his last chance to stop Mary, no matter how mad this idea may be._

 _The wind catches under her brolly and Mary lets her feet slowly lift from the ground._

 _Bert reaches out and grabs her wrist, momentarily returning her to the pavement._

 _Absolutely nothing_

 _"Marry me."_

 _"Pardon?" Mary's confused reply comes with much more offense than intended._

 _Bert takes a deep breath._

 _"I know you heard me, Mar. Stay 'ere an' marry me. I love you, Mary Elizabeth Poppins, so much. I know you've ne'er verbally returned my feelings, but ya act like ya do. I don't know why you close yourself off from e'en those who you mean the world to, but I'd like t' find that out. I don't want you to feel like you 'ave to run away from your problems anymore. After more than four years livin' together, I can't imagine spendin' a single day without you there besides me."_

 _Mary feels tears begins to stain her cheeks._

 _"I am sorry, Bert, but I honestly cannot answer such a...proposal."_

 _"You can't or you won't." The words are sharp, but Bert's tone is gentle._

 _"Can't." Mary plainly repeats through tears. "Please, let me go now, Bert. I must be on my way."_

 _"Au revoir, then, Mary Poppins." Bert sounds uncharacteristically downcast as he releases Mary's hand._

 _She floats back up, wiping her cheeks with the back of the hand wrapped around her carpet bag. Bittersweet tears dot the soft fabric where Bert's rough hand was gently gripping but moments ago._

 _"Take care of yourself, Bert." Mary calls back, before turning away, unable to keep her eyes on her dearest friend any longer._

 _Bert, however, keeps his eyes fixed on Mary, the woman who has his heart, as she flies off, only looking away when he can no longer make out her figure in the sky._

 _Bert shoves his hands into his pockets and dejectedly drops his head, cursing himself as he watches tears fall onto his well-worn shoes._

 _Absolutely nothing_

…

Mary is startled by a knock on the door. She looks up to see Jane standing in the doorway.

"Is that a ring?" the girl asks, inviting herself into Mary's room off the nursery.

"Oh." Mary had been transfixed on the item, twirling the object between her fingers (though not wearing it), and hadn't heard the girl coming.

"This was my mother's." A half-lie never hurt anyone. "I like to take it out sometimes to remind myself of her."

Jane takes a seat beside Mary on the bed.

"Was she anything like you?" Jane asks, only a little skeptical of Mary's answer, but as curious as always. Afterall, when did Mary Poppins ever mention her immediate family?

"We were different, but still got along very well. She was very kind and gentle and had the biggest heart; there was not a creature alive she didn't love. No one was ever not welcome in her home, and, even though she sometimes struggled to provide for her family, she did everything she could to ensure their futures would be bright and full of love."

Jane, hearing exactly what she had hoped, beams up to Mary.

"She sounds almost as incredible as you!"

Mary lets out a slight chuckle, patting her hair at the compliment.

"What was her name?"

Mary keeps her posture, but loses a bit of her ego as she slides the ring onto her right hand.

"Her name was Catherine, and she was truly the most wonderful woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

"I'd be honored to someday be half as incredible as she was."

"You know, Mary Poppins," Jane looks up at the nanny, "I think you're already there."

Mary can't keep a smile from forming at the girl's comment. She certainly acts like she believes that, but deep down, knowing everything she's been through, she doesn't.

"I think," Mary places a hand on the girl's shoulder, "you don't know me well enough to be making a statement like that."

Jane folds her hands in her lap and looks down at them. "That's actually what I came to talk to you about." The words barely escape her, fearing how Mary will react to them.

"Pardon?"

Jane takes a deep breath, trying to regain a bit of her courage.

"Well," she looks up to Mary and finds a surprisingly warm glint in her eyes - certainly reassuring. "You said you wanted us to think of you as more of a friend, and I was wondering if that meant you'd be willing to open up a bit to at least me."

"After all you've done for our family, and all the things you seem to just know about us, you're a complete mystery."

Mary gives an understanding nod.

"I am glad you are taking me up on the offer, Jane."

"But, you won't." Jane surmises, standing to leave.

"Jane, dear?"

"Yes, Mary Poppins?"

"Actually, I would like to. My trouble with opening up to people tends to be because I don't know where to begin."

"Well, how did you do it with Bert?" Jane asks, eagerly trying to push her in the right direction.

At this, Mary walks over to the girl and pulls her into a hug. Though such an action initially catches Jane off guard, she returns the gesture.

"To be quite frank," Mary begins, walking back over to her bed, and motioning for Jane to do the same, "it happened then in a way I do not wish to repeat."

"How so?"

Mary hesitates, weighing how much to give away in her response.

"As you know, Bert and I didn't exactly meet under, er, favorable conditions."

Jane nods along.

"Well, I was actually rather upset when we met and it all sort of just came out." Mary admits, defeatedly.

This is a new side to Mary that Jane is seeing. She isn't exactly fragile, but she seems much more vulnerable than normal. Not sure which Poppins is the real one, Jane proceeds with caution.

"Do you...want to talk about it. I mean I understand if-"

"Jane," Mary saves the girl from stammering out an excuse. "it is not something I really can talk about."

This is obviously not the answer the girl had been hoping for.

"That is to say," Mary continues, "it's difficult for me to look back on. However, know that this is the only reason for me not saying; I would tell you, if I could find the words."

"Really?" Jane exclaims in awe at how effective she had been, despite assuming Mary would initially dismiss the subject.

"Thank you for trusting me."

Mary gives a smile Jane has never seen before. It's more subtle and much more relaxed than what the teenager associates with the nanny. Jane closes her eyes and nods to herself: this is the real Mary Poppins.

She is not weak, not vulnerable, but she is strong. She is much stronger than anyone in the Banks household is aware of. She is strong for being able to go on as though nothing is wrong, strong enough to live behind a mask and not let it crack. Jane may not understand why she lives like this, but, in this moment, has gained even more respect than one thought possible for the nanny.

"Thank you for sharing, Mary Poppins."

"Thank you for listening."

Jane stands, rubbing her eyes. "Well, it is very late. I suppose I should be off to bed."

"That you should be." Mary agrees.

"If you want me to listen more, perhaps we can keep up this nighttime ritual."

"Jane…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." the accused laughs, backing to the doorway.

"Just thought I'd offer up my listening skills to you."

Mary smiles, her mind going to someone else who often offers her the same. She shifts Catherine's ring to her left hand.

"Thank you, Jane, but…"

She holds up her hand to examine the look of the ring on it; it appears so natural to Mary. Taking notice, Jane let's out a quiet squeak of excitement.

"I have a fiancé with the same request queued up."

Jane brings her hands to her mouth, visibly shaking with glee.

"Calm down, child." Mary tsks. "You'd think you're the one getting married."

Jane runs over to Mary, pulling her into a suffocating hug.

"I'm just so happy for you two. Anyone with eyes can see how Bert's face lights up every time he sees you!"

"Go to bed."

The girl rolls her eyes in a fashion incredibly similar to how Mary normally would.

"I'm far too happy to sleep now."

Mary shakes her head to show her disapproval.

"I told you to go to bed, I didn't say you had to sleep."

"And," the nanny adds as an afterthought "this stays absolutely between just us, promise?"

"I promise, Mary Poppins!"

The girls hops out of the room, but returns to the door a moment later, the joyfulness having dissipated from her face.

"Why did you feel the need to lie to me?"

Mary takes a breath; she didn't lie, she only half-lied.

"I didn't lie to you Jane."

"But you said-"

She holds up a wary hand to the girl's protest.

"This ring did belong to the one woman to ever treat me like a daughter. That woman just happens to be Bert's mother, not my own. But, Catherine was all those things I said, and she is still one of the people I look up to."

Jane raises her eyebrows inquisitively.

"The only woman to ever treat you like a daughter?"

"Bed."

There is an unusually playful tone to the command that Jane thinks she could quickly get used to.

"All right, all right. Another time though, right? Goodnight Mary Po-"

Jane pauses.

"Mary."

"Another time." Mary confirms with a nod of approval to both statements.

"Sweet dreams, Jane."

The girl closes the door behind her and Mary lies down on her pillow. She lets out a disapproving sigh.

Disapproving of herself, that is.

"What the bloody hell have I gotten myself into?"


	9. If I Loved You

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe this story is over a year old - I have absolutely no concept of time! This is the longest I've ever stayed with a project, and I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me on this journey. There is still much more to come !**

 **As for my excuse, I rewrote this chapter 5 times, and I'm still not super happy with it. However, if I didn't get it up, I would never finish this story so - hope you enjoy !**

 **I love you all so much !**

 **-Jillian xx**

* * *

 _Chapter 9: If I Loved You_

 _"Longin' to tell you, but afraid and shy, I'd let my golden chances pass me by. Soon you'd leave me; off you would go in the mist of day... never to know how I loved you..."_

 _13 July 1916_

* * *

"You're not leaving for good, are you?"

"Oh, please stay, Mary Poppins."

The twins call after their nanny when they notice her putting on her purple coat at the front door. All five Banks children have congregated on the landing to see Mary Poppins off, and to assure her return. Mary walks up to meet them.

"Of course not, pet," Mary consoles, patting John on the head before pulling Barbara's thumb from the girl's mouth "it's just my evening out."

"I will be back to wake you tomorrow morning."

"How long will you be staying with us." John asks, looking up at the nanny with round eyes. "After tomorrow, that is."

Jane and Michael exchange a knowing glance.

"I'll stay," Mary, much out of character, takes a pause in her statement, "until the twelfth year."

She finishes the statement plainly, spinning round on her heel and briskly exiting number seventeen.

The youngest three, satisfied with the answer, let out cries of joy, blissfully unaware of the meaning of the phrase, save for the fact that Mary Poppins will not be leaving too soon.

However, once the little ones are asleep, Jane and Michael meet up to try deciphering Mary's claim.

"She can't possibly be staying for 12 years - that's far too long for any nanny, especially Mary Poppins." Michael reasons.

"Well, perhaps she means 12 years since she was first with us? Jane counters.

"But even so, that would be nearly six years from now."

The two go back and forth a bit in hopes of stumbling upon the answer before ultimately losing hope.

"Oh, Jane," Michael whines, "let's be realistic. After all, this is Mary Poppins we're talking about! We'll never figure it out."

Jane, however, is much too stubborn to give up.

"But it has to mean something!"

Though she is speaking more to herself than she is her brother, Michael groans at her reluctance to stop.

"Everything Mary says, as odd as it sounds, has a meaning."

"Who's Mary?" Michael interjects rather flippantly, taken aback by her informality with their nanny.

Well, former nanny, if we're being technical.

"Since when are you on a first name basis with Mary Poppins."

"Since I accepted her offer to be friends." Jane replies, her priggish tone signaling an end to the discussion.

"Well, you don't have to be so cross about it." Michael says as he gets up to go to his own room, needing to get the last word in.

Jane shuts the door behind him and lays down with a heavy "humph," still trying to make sense of the cryptic statement.

…

Meanwhile at the Alfred residence, Mary and Bert have been enjoying a lovely evening with the Bernard's.

That is, Mary's sister, Joy, her husband Daniel, and their four young children.

"They love her."

"Of course they do," Bert replies, "she's their aunt."

"But they've never met her before." Joy sighs, leaning her elbows on the table.

"Pardon, I just wish I could see my sister more."

"Believe me," Bert laughs "I know the feelin'!"

"'ow do you handle all of 'em? I can't imagine what it'll be like to 'ave one, let alone five!"

"Planning something, are you? Don't let my sister know." Joy teases, finishing off her statement by finishing off her drink. (non-alcoholic, of course.)

"Don't think I quite understand wha' you're implyin'" Bert raises his eyebrows, playing into her game.

"Oh, I'm quite sure you do." She continues suggestively.

"And, since you're to be my baby brother soon, I figure it the best time to start treating you as such."

"Well, not in my flat, you can't!" Bert smiles. "'Sides, we're gettin' married in just a few months, so pretty soon we're gonna-"

"Do not even think about finishing that sentence, Bert!"

Bert feigns offense at the interjection. "'Ey, you started it! And, sounds to me as though you're accusing me of somethin' rather unsavoury…"

Joy smirks in response.

Bert mutters "cheeky" back at her as they turn back to looking at Mary and the kids. Though, Bert lets out an inaudible sigh of relief as they do so, feeling his blood beginning to rush to his cheeks; he didn't want to finish that sentence.

Well, not aloud at least.

Bert tries shifting his focus by concentrating on the moment. He watches Mary Poppins endearingly as she plays with her nieces and nephews. Despite not knowing them for very long, anyone who didn't know better would think Mary was their actual mother.

Bert is awed by the scene before him; he lets his mind wander to what a future with Mary Poppins looks like.

His future, he reminds himself, allowing a wide grin to spread across his face. Such an expression catches Mary's eye, luring her in like a Siren does to a naïve sailor. It captures her and tortures her because it is full of love - a love which she reciprocates with every fibre of her being, but one which she cannot fall victim to. It is far too unstable an emotion; she's too worried she'll have to give it up soon, and she could never hurt Bert that way.

Though, she fears she already has fallen in too deep.

Her outward appearance, thankfully, does not reveal any of this turmoil. Instead, Bert misinterprets her prolonged gaze as to mean she is thinking the same thing he is, or so he can hope.

Joy, however, pays no mind to the exchange taking place beside her, instead keeping her eyes fixated on her children.

"I don't." Joy comments, a bit absent-mindedly, snapping Bert out of his thoughts.

"Pardon?"

"You asked me how I handle all my children. The truth is that I don't." the woman reminds him.

"Well, technically I do, but not as well as I would like to."

Bert rubs one of his hands across her back, telling her to relax.

"Nearly your 'ole life 'as been spent looking after kids, I'm sure you're great with your own." Bert comforts.

"I know I should be," she replies dejectedly, "but it's so hard, especially now that Daniel's working at night, which, by the way, I'm sorry he left early. It's-"

"You're rambling," the man points out, holding up a hand to tell her to stop. Clearly it runs in the family. "Don't apologize, and certainly do not overwhelm yourself. I'm glad he could come for what time he did. I'm glad any of you could come at all."

Joy offers Bert half a smile.

"Thank you." she nods. "For the advice, and for taking such good care of my baby sister when I could not."

"'Course!"

There is a beat of silence before Bert continues.

"I know this may be an odd, yet obvious suggestion," Bert takes her hands and gives them a reassuring squeeze, "but have you considered hiring a nanny?"

"I wish! We can't afford one. And, before you suggest it, I will not ask my sister for money - I'm probably more stubborn that you in that respect. If only we could just have Mary work for us."

The frazzled woman lays her head on the table in defeat, he blonde curls bouncing in every direction.

"Why can't you?" Bert asks, genuinely missing the issue at hand.

Joy sighs. "You can't work for family, it's part of the contract."

Suddenly, Bert has an idea.

"Ya know," he begins, a devious edge evident in his tone, "could ya tell me a bit more 'bout this contract? Mary is awfully vague whenever I bring it up."

"Well, I could tell you a bit," Joy offers, "but you're goin to have to talk to my sister if you want to know her motives. So, what do you want to know?"

Bert reflects on where he should start and figures out what has been bothering him most about the way Mary's been acting lately.

"Is there somethin' in it tha' says ya can't be in love?"

Joy's surprised expression is more than enough of an answer.

"Did she tell you that?" she begins slowly.

"Perhaps she's worries about Father- oh nevermind. I'm rambling again!" she cuts herself off.

"What about your father?" Bert snaps, more confused than when the conversation began. Joy offers him little help as her current expression reads "speaks with my sister about it" which only makes the man more frustrated. He finally concludes that that is the only thing he can do.

And he must do it.

Bert runs his hands through his hair, trying to figure out how exactly to bring up the topic with Mary. He's now almost mad at her. The only thing he knows of her father, aside from him dying when Mary was young, is that he was the only person to truly treat her right growing up. Joy, of course, tried to raise her right, but she was only a teenager while doing so.

But, he's also frustrated with himself for being mad because he knows how fragile a state that puts her in - a mindset which she hates to succumb to.

"Everything all right." The pair's heads snap in the direction of Mary Poppins's voice. Thankfully, with the children as a distraction, she didn't hear any of the conversation.

Though, Bert is beginning to think things may have been easier if she did know what was on his mind.

"I think," Joy slowly stands and claps her hands together in a very business-like way, "it is about time we be going." She gives Bert a look that is obviously telling him to confront Mary.

All four children protest their mother's command, though they're all obviously quite tired. Not as tired as Joy seems to be though.

"Sweethearts, Mummy's had a long day. She's very tired and Daddy isn't here to help her, please don't be difficult." Mary assists. Joy sends her a thankful look.

"Thank you for dinner, Bert. It's been a lovely evening. And Mary, dear, please don't be a stranger."

After a few hugs and an exchange of goodbyes Mary and Bert are left standing alone in the middle of the room: Bert, incredibly tense, thinking of how to approach Mary with what's on his mind, and Mary, relatively content, though simultaneously planning to head back to the Banks's to avoid confrontation, sensing Bert's nerves.

"Why did you say you loved me, but then tell me you can't?" Bert bluntly breaks the silence, letting out the question that had been burning at his lips.

"And don't be vague about it." the man adds as a stern afterthought.

"I'm sorry," Mary reluctantly begins with a cross edge to her tone, "but it's complicated, I-"

"Bollocks!" Bert spits back defiantly.

"Bert, please don't be upset with me."

Mary silently curses herself, feeling the tears that are threatening to fall. She knows she's hurting him by keeping secrets, but she doesn't want to lose him by telling them either.

"It's a complicated topic; my brain is so scattered and overwhelmed at the moment and you shouting is not helping any of it. Can you please not be angry with me."

"Not be angry with you?" Bert is flabbergasted at her statement. "Mary, we're gettin' married in four months an' you refuse t' be open with me; that's gonna become a serious issue! I'm sorry, I'd very much like to be there t' support ya, but I can't take tha' burden if you're gonna be so defensive with me."

"Oh, I'm being defensive with you? You're the one who started yelling at me." Mary's comment comes with a dangerous combination of sorrow and anger. "And who said we're getting married in four months?"

The question catches Bert off guard.

"Oh," The accused's glare softens and he escorts Mary to the sofa, giving both a chance to cool down.

"I'd assumed we'd be married right when your contract ended? Your birthday this year, right? I mean, I 'ope that's right, considerin' it's the only part I know 'bout the bloody thing."

Mary is visibly offended by his excuse.

"We never discussed this! Why would you assume a wedding date for us?"

"Mary, please, I don't want to argue with you. It's just, you know you can trust me."

A weak "yes" escapes from Mary as she cuddles into Bert's side, grabbing onto his shirt for support. She tries keeping herself as close to him as possible, wanting to savour his love for her while she can still sense it, afraid he might not want to love her if she tells the truth.

"Mar, love, I have to know something. I asked Joy about the contract just before and she mentioned something about your father possibly being the reason you refuse to let yourself fall in love. What is she referring to."

Bert feels the woman in his arms shake her head against his torso. He sighs, partially afraid she'll just wave him off again, but also, partially hoping she's trying to collect herself to answer him.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and looks up at him.

"I'll be frank with you." Her words are notably strained.

She still has yet to permit her tears to fall. Bert holds her even closer, peppering kisses of support in her hair before bringing their lips together ever so lovingly, wordlessly telling her that he's no longer mad at her.

"What is it?"

She closes her eyes and reflects on the one reason she has been refraining from telling him everything.

"I'm terrified"

Hearing these two simple words, Bert cups his hands around Mary's face.

"Love, 'ey, don't cry, love. You've nothin' t' be afraid of. I'm 'ere for ya, I promised I always would be, remember?"

His words are much more delicate than they were minutes ago.

Mary still shakes her head at him.

"No, please, please do not say that, Bert. You've wasted enough of your life waiting for me."

Her words pierce Bert's heart - she could never be a waste of his time.

"I'd wait an eternity more for ya."

"Bert, don't…" she trails off, turning away from him.

"Mar, Mary, look at me."

Still not facing him, she closes her eyes tight, tears freely flowing from them despite her effort to keep them contained.

"Love, I don't regret a single moment I've spent waitin' because you're my 'ole world."

He nudges her head, leaning in to brush his lips across hers, but she resists. Instead, he is met with her tear-stained cheek.

"Mar, a life without you in 't is not worth livin' to me. Even if you're not around, knowin' that you'll come back one day keeps me goin'. I know 't won't last forever."

Mary finally looks back at the man holding her. Bert feels his heart break, seeing Mary's normally crystal blue eyes clouded with sadness. He can hardly bear to look at her in such a state, but especially not knowing he's the reason for it, a feeling he's grown uncomfortably accustomed to.

"Why are we so frequently findin' ourselves like this now?"

"Because my life has become one huge disaster." Mary offers as a reply, a meek smile briefly appearing on her face.

"Well," she continues, "I suppose it's always been one, but it's only now catching up with me."

She takes a deep breath and admits "I have something I would like to tell - something I should have told you ages ago."

"An' what's that?" Bert inquires with caring eyes. He strokes her hair to relax her, as well as himself.

"The reason I've been out of London the last six years."

Bert nods understandingly, all his previous frustrations having melted away. Though, he is still a little worried he pressured her into opening up rather than it being of her own desire.

As these thoughts runs through Bert's head, Mary looks to her lap, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. Sensing her hesitancy, Bert holds her a bit tighter.

"I already know why you stayed out of London." Bert begins for her, trying to be encouraging.

"You do?" There is surprisingly concern in Mary's tone (surprising to Bert, that is).

"Yea." Bert responds warily.

"It's 'cause you've gotta go wherever the wind takes ya; you've no control over tha' an' I completely understand."

Mary sighs. He's so sweet, too sweet to lie to, despite how easy it would be to just agree with his last statement.

"Actually, I intentionally stayed out. You see, when I receive my assignments, I am given multiple options, usually in different parts of the world, but not always. So, for the last six years, I've been purposefully declining any assignment near London."

"But why did you do it?"

This question hurts Mary because the words are now so desperate for answers.

Mary decided to sit back down, this time on the floor - and old habit she was never able to shake. Bert joins her.

"I didn't want to return until the end of my contract because, well, because of you."

"Because of me?" Bert's tone is rightfully defensive; his words are practically begging to know what he did wrong.

He continues through gritted teeth "So why'd ya come back?"

The phrasing of this last statement nearly makes Mary feel he's unhappy she's returned, though she tells herself that wasn't his intent.

"I had no other choice!" Mary manages to squeak out before more tears fall down her porcelain cheeks. "I mean, I did, but I didn't."

"It was either Clara or…"

Before she continues, Mary twines her arms around Bert's neck. In return, he pulls her closer to him, rubbing her back to ease the tension in her petite figure. It also serves to remind himself that his feelings aren't everything and, as hard as it is for him to listen to, it's just as hard (if not harder) for Mary to be telling these things.

She continues, now resting her head on his shoulder, allowing her breathing to fall in rhythm with the strokes she feels on her back.

"Apparently, Henry has remarried as has a four year old son in Surrey." The phrase comes out choppy due to the conflicting feelings of dejection and rage which come to mind when Mary thinks of the man in question.

Bert stands, taking Mary up with him, and places his hands firmly on her waist. He doesn't need to ask specifics - he know exactly who she is talking about.

"If I wasn't such a lady," Mary shuts her eyes tight to block out the memories associated with the name, "I would have screamed my lungs out when I saw that name as my only option to avoid returning to London."

The tiny woman lets out a huge, disapproving sigh.

"It was as though the wind was trying to test me." she mutters spitefully.

"So, that's why you came back, but" Bert gently cups one of his hands around Mary's face. "what did I do that you didn't want to see me until your contract had ended?"

"Magic." Mary replies plainly.

"What?" Bert lets out a small chuckle.

"You did magic. You pulled a bouquet out of a painting!"

"So?"

Mary takes a step away from Bert.

"You don't find that a tad odd?"

The accused stutters a bit, trying to find his voice. It would appear that Mary's bewilderment has rendered him rather speechless.

He fumbles his way through an explanation.

"Well, yea, kinda, I don't know! I-I guess, maybe? It wasn't the first time I tried 't - figured I'd practice a bit 'fore I showed off to ya. But, yea, it's a tad odd, if you say so."

Mary pinches her nose in defeat. "When you discovered you could use magic, you weren't at all perplexed by it?"

"Guess I just picked up a thin' or two from you!" He shrugs.

"Bert, there are only two ways someone not born with magic can obtain it."

The man's mouths forms into a silent, yet inquisitive "O" shape. He retreats back to the sofa, patting the spot next to him as a call for Mary to sit.

"The first way" she begins "is for you to be in physical contact with a magical being at the time of their death."

Mary stops when she sees the way Bert has reacted to her statement. His eyes are wide and he is leaning away from her.

"Does tha' still apply t' someone who already 'as magic?" His tone is a mix of fascination and fear.

"Yes, Bert, it does, so part of my magic is actually my father's. I am definitely more powerful than average, but" she leans closer to him "it's not something you should be afraid of." she finishes lightheartedly.

"Oh, course, nothin' to be 'fraid of." Bert replies in an attempt to seem nonchalant about the situation. He fails miserably, earning him a small laugh from Mary.

"And the second way?" Bert presses, desperate to change the subject.

However, he is caught off guard by Mary's decision to speak her answer to her lap instead of to him.

"True love." he hears her admit in just above a whisper. Her cheeks are rosier than normal; she is clearly embarrassed to admit this, but Bert doesn't understand why.

He places a hand on her kneecap and softly kisses her temple as a sign of reassurance.

"That's so romantic." he tries as a reaction, hoping it's what she wants to hear.

"I'm quite serious, Bert."

She looks up at him as though mortally offended by his words, misunderstanding them as almost mocking. "If a non-magical being falls in love with a magical being who reciprocates that feeling, they can start to develop small amounts of power."

"An' I'm quite serious, too." Bert coos, rubbing noses with Mary - an action which calms her down rather quickly.

"It sounds like somethin' out of a storybook - I love it."

But Bert's smile fades as he come to a new realisation, an assumption as to why she was embarrassed to admit this to him.

"So, you've been out of London for six years because you were afraid that you had fallen in love with me?"

His words are a bit more harsh now.

Mary's response is a delicate "yes."

"I was afraid to be in love with you because I was afraid I'd end up losing you." Mary gains a bit more confidence in her words.

"If we become too close, I'll never recover when you leave me."

When

"How could you think such a thin'? Mar, love, I could never leave you - you mean the world t' me."

He pulls her close. The pair sits like this, safe in each other's arms, for a moment or two at least. Bert is content in this position, feeling protective over Mary and relieved that he didn't actually do anything wrong, not technically at least. Unfortunately, Mary isn't as at ease, because what she says next will test his last statement.

"Bert?"

The man panics slightly. Mary may have said but one word, yet he's heard enough to know that there will be pain behind her next statement.

"Yes, love?"

"I'm sorry that you're stuck with me when you deserve so much more."

Bert is positively stunned. He would do absolutely anything for his Mary - she knows that; she is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"Love, how could you ever think such a thin'? You mean everythin' t' me! What more could I want?"

"Someone who can actually be in your life."

It's a weak argument, but Mary doesn't realise that because it's something she's always been guilty about.

"But that's almost over." Bert tries to reason with her. "Just a few mo' months an'-"

"Maybe more." Mary cuts him off despondently.

"Pardon?"

"I wasn't going to say anything because I didn't want to worry you," Mary starts cautiously "but what worries me the most about my contract is that something might happen to me - that I'll be punished - for possessing my father's magic.""

Bert runs his thumbs across Mary's cheeks. She leans into his touch, savouring the moment.

"I've waited this long, 'aven't I? What's a bit longer?"

Mary's eyes grow much more serious.

"I don't know any specifics about my father's life before I was born - this is based in conjecture - but I don't think it's a coincidence that he died on his 38th birthday."

"So you're worried the same'll 'appen to you 'cause of 'is magic?"

Mary hangs her head dejectedly.

"Sounds ridiculous, I know." she says feebly "But I can't seem to shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen to me."

"Let's not worry about what the future 'as in store." Bert holds Mary in a strong, comforting hug.

"Right now, let's be 'appy for what we 'ave, 'cause time stands still for every moment I spend with you, Mary Poppins."

In return, Mary, blushing slightly from the comment, twines her arms about Bert's waist and nuzzle ever closer to him.

"You flatter me so," she mumbles into his chest before looking up into his compassionate gaze, "and I love you for it!"

Bert leans down to kiss her. However, his initial question reenters his mind - leave it to Mary to be so subtly evasive. He takes a deep breath, hoping for a better reaction this time.

"If you really love me, which I certainly believe you do, why did you tell me you can't?" He is much more gentle this time, wanting more than anything to avoid another confrontation.

"Was it 'cause you were 'fraid of…"

He trails off seeing Mary's lips curl into a smile. Definitely not the reaction he was expecting, but he isn't going to complain about it either.

"Didn't I just tell you, I don't want to lose you."

Bert picks her up and spins her around. They both start laughing at the gesture.

"You told me why you don't want to, not why you can't" Bert replies cheekily.

"Well, it's moreso linked to one of the rules of my contract."

Everything comes back to the contract.

"Ah, an' what would that be?"

"I can't marry nor engage in such kinds of activities until it ends." she answers rather quickly, choosing to say this to the floor instead of Bert.

The man holding her laughs at her embarrassment - in a lighthearted way, never mocking. He forces her to look back up at him so he can offer a sympathetic kiss on her tip of her nose.

"Mar, we don't need t' be married for you to tell me you love me."

"I know," she sighs "but it would have made things so much easier."

Bert holds her close again.

"That's actually why I said I couldn't accept your proposal 12 years ago." Mary admits, peering up at him through her eyelashes.

"I couldn't make you promise yourself to me for so long when I knew we'd hardly be seeing each other."

Bert feathers kisses in her hair.

"Love, that doesn't matter t' me, you know that. I may 'ave proposed to try to keep ya from leavin', but I wouldn't've if I couldn't see myself spendin' the rest of my life you. I love you, Mary, and no one can change that. I've stayed faithful to you this 'ole time."

He leads her out into the hall; it is rather late and she is expected back at the Banks's soon.

"I find that incredibly hard to believe, especially in the last six years."

"You've 'ad my 'eart for over 14 years! You're the only woman I'd bother coutin'."

Mary's cheeks grow rosier with every sentence - how could she not be hopelessly in love with this man.

"And who said we ever stopped courting?" Mary jokes with a coquettish giggle.

Her laugh is like music to Bert's' ears.

"You rejected my proposal!" he counters nonetheless, passing Mary her coat.

"I did not reject you." She corrects with a smirk. "I said I could not answer you."

"So?"

"So, the reason I didn't say yes was because I didn't want you to be committed to me for 12 years if we'd hardly be seeing each other." the woman continues in a very no-nonsense tone, pulling her crisp white gloves out of her coat pocket.

"Why would I not give a straight answer if I had intended to say 'no'?"

"Ah, so we've technically been engaged these last 12 years 'ave we?" Bert teases, offering his arm to her.

Mary accepts it, replying "Honestly, Bert, how dare you call yourself my fiancé when you are so slow to understand my vague implications."

"The nerve of me." he sarcastically replies, stealing a kiss from Mary. "And you talk way too much."

"Well, if that's your way of telling me so, perhaps it's not much of a problem?" she flirtatiously argues, leaning back up for another kiss.

The two walk the familiar streets of London together back to Cherry Tree Lane. After dropping Mary safely at Number 17, Bert walks home with his hands in his pockets and a smile across his face, taking in the evening air. He's thankful for the minimal cloud cover as he looks up at the stars while making his way through the park. He stops on a bridge - a special bridge - and looks at how the Heavens reflect in the water, admiring the moonlight dancing off the gentle waves below. He smiles a foolish lopsided grin to himself, ever more appreciative of that night, for he can't even bear to imagine his life without Mary Poppins there beside him for it.


	10. Journey to the Past

**A/N: Sorry for being MIA, but, like I always say, my life is a mess.**

 **I also apologise if this chapter raises more questions than answers, I promise everything will come together (eventually).**

 **I am also sorry if this chapter feels a bit rushed - I got the inspiration to write like 65% of it around 1am so I kinda wanted to just get it out there and posted!**

 **Also, if you are following this story, please answer the author's note at the end. Thanks so much for sticking with this despite my awful update schedule (or lack thereof)**

* * *

note: if you've ever taken a world history course, you may notice something rather "Great" is missing from this story. Blame it on my lack of comprehension of war (I genuinely can't wrap my head around how something so deadly can amount from something that can be settled with choice words of kindness), but WWI kind of doesn't exist is this TimeLine - this has been a psa

 _Chapter 10: Journey to the Past_

 _"...back to who I was, on to find my future, things my heart still needs to know..."_

* * *

 _28 July, 1916_

"Don't slouch, Michael." Mary Poppins berates, looking at herself in the bakery shop window. The wind was being particularly tricky with her hair this afternoon, forcing her to stop a few times to smooth the stray back into her meticulous bun.

Beside the nanny, Jane is keeping in check a twin on each arm, and tapping her foot rather impatiently (and rather like Mary Poppins), while Annabel continues to pull at Michael, anxious to get home.

The sight of the six figures on the pavement must have surely been something to the customers inside the store, but, by now, the children knew better than to chide their curious nanny's rather vain behaviors.

"She didn't even look at him." Barbara observes, looking between her caretaker and her sister.

Jane laughs at the little girl's intrigue, she knows all too well of the strange ways in which Mary Poppins works; the mysterious woman sees everything.

"How much longer until we can go home," John complains "my feet hurt!"

After giving a satisfactory nod to her reflection, Mary Poppins offers her attention to the boy.

"Well," she replies with a sigh, as though already bored with the subject. "I was thinking we could get some gingerbread first."

The five kids cheer at the suggestion.

"But," Mary interject the exclamation, "if you're tired, it is probably best if we just go home."

Cries of protest erupt from all at this new suggestion.

"I didn't mean it - honest, Mary Poppins." John looks up apologetically.

Mary nods disapprovingly, masking her own desire to visit her friend, and, of course, to indulge in some fresh gingerbread.

"Very well. I suppose we have time for a quick visit to Mrs. Corry's." she continues, trying to seem aloof.

"We should probably get some for father!" Michael suggests as the crew makes their way to the shop. Jane nods in agreement.

"Oh yes, he is so rather fond of it." she adds. "It always reminds him of when he was a little boy; it'll keep him in a good mood!"

"Does your father like gingerbread too, Mary Poppins?" Barbara asks innocently.

Mary stops walking, her signature stern expression fading into a soft smile at the sound of the girl's inquiry.

"He did." She plainly replies, looking off across the street, as though her memories were being projected there.

"Whenever he worked late, he would come home with some gingerbread as an apology."

Michael decides to take advantage of the lapse in the nanny's enigmatic rigidity.

"What was your father like?"

He knows it's a bold move, one which Mary Poppins almost respects the boy for making. She comes back to reality, but holds onto her nostalgic air of serenity.

"He was actually very much like your father, I suppose." She begins, not looking at the children, instead returning her focus to herding them toward their destination. "Except, to him, family always came first, no matter what sacrifices he had to make."

"Like what?" Michael presses.

Thankfully for Mary, the question quickly slips from the boy's mind as the children spy a familiar face inside Mrs. Corry's.

"Bert!" Jane and Michael (rather childishly) call out in unison.

"Well, 'ello there Banks's." He greets with a friendly smile. "And 'ow do you do, Miss Poppins." Bert adds, tipping his hat.

"Please, no need for such formality, Bert." Mary holds up a cautious hand. "It's only the children."

Mary shares an almost conspiring glance with Jane and Michael.

"Whatever you wish, Mary." Bert complies, taking Mary's gloved hand in his and brushing his lips where he expects her engagement ring to be concealed. He is more than a little surprised to not feel it there.

However, his disappointment only last a moment, as he remembers Mary's current situation - he would much prefer to not see the face of Mr. Banks, should the master learn of his relationship with Mary Poppins.

"What are you all giggly for?" Michael asks his older sister, following Jane's gaze to the adults in front of them.

She waves her hand at him. She has been doing a wonderful job of keeping the engagement a secret.

"Oh, nothing." She dismisses, despite knowing her gesture won't be satisfactory for her ever-curious brother. Michael knows better than to try to crack his sister, so he decides to turn his attention back to the earlier conversation.

"You didn't answer my question, Mary Poppins." Michael says, making himself known to Mary Poppins and Bert who were presently off to the side, rather unaware of their surroundings.

Mary silently curses herself - she almost escaped the question. She knows she could give a typically vague answer, but she is growing tired of lying to people she cares about.

Jane waltzes over as well, satisfied that her younger siblings won't get into too much trouble if left alone in the shop. Bert nonchalantly leans in closer as well - he'll never pass up the opportunity to try to gain a bit more information about Mary's secretive past.

"Well," she begins, much to Michael's excitement, "there was this important task he had to do, but he refused to take it until he had a family."

Bert's mind begins to wander to the possibilities of what she could be referring to. Mary pays no mind to this reaction.

"He didn't take it because he wanted to work really hard before getting married to be sure he could provide for them. He wasn't afraid of failure, but was so stubborn that he could never give up on a challenge - he truly put everything he had into everything he did. Unfortunately, he never lived to complete-"

A loud crash interrupts the exchange - so much for the little ones not getting into trouble. Jane rushes over to help, beckoning Michael to join her - something about the twins teasing Annabel to climb one of the shelves?

"You're not referring to his contract, are you?" Bert question, once the two are out of earshot.

"Joy once mentioned that father avoided his contract, which struck me as odd, because my diary says only women have to serve." She ends her statement with an eyeroll: of course women are the only ones who have to be servants, while men can keep their magic without doing anything.

"An' what else did your sister mention?" Bert decides to try his luck at getting Mary to open up more.

"We'll talk." Mary smiles, turning to round up her charges.

"But will we?" Bert mumbles, going to her side. Mary lets out a sigh - choosing to ignore his comment; the last thing she needs right now is an argument.

Thankfully for the pair, a high-pitched voice saves them from such a fate.

"Oh, if it isn't Mary Poppins!" the voice calls from behind the counter, "And with all the little Banks's." she continues, stepping around to give each child a suffocating hug.

"Hello, Mrs. Corry." Jane and Michael greet, fondly remembering their first encounter with her.

"How big you two have gotten," the older woman comments, putting a hand on each of their shoulders.

"You know, Mary, my dear," she continues, turning to the nanny, "I was beginning to wonder when I'd get to meet the new ones."

"Now, Mrs. Corry, you know I am sorry for not bringing them here sooner," Mary gives a warning, yet friendly look to her friend, "but as you also know, I haven't been in London for a while."

"Of course." Mrs. Corry dismisses.

Bert closes his eyes and lets out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. Perhaps he was afraid of what the innocent comment could have led to.

Sensing his apprehension, Mary takes his hand and gives it a light squeeze, so he relaxes. She's not going anywhere anytime soon, and that's all that matter for the time being.

"I am sure you are eager to get back, dear," Mrs. Corry sings, facing Mary, "so I've already set aside some gingerbread for each of you. And, of course a little extra for Georgie. Tell me, how is he?" she concludes, handing a little package to each person, before going behind the counter to retrieve the unexpected extra treat.

"Oh, father's wonderful!" Jane chimes in, "but has been working very late in order to take care of all of us."

"That's because he is a good man who cares about his family and he wants them to have everything they wish." the older women replies.

"He sure is!" John pipes up, already finishing one of his biscuits. "That's why we wanted to bring him some sweets - to say thank you."

"Well that was very kind of you." Mrs. Corry smiles.

"Mary Poppins was just telling us how her father would do something similar." Michael daringly brings up, figuring he might be able to get some more information out of the older woman.

He figures correctly.

"Why, yes!" Mrs. Corry practically cries, clapping her hands together. "I remember when James would come in here to get a little something to bring home to his girls."

Mary (still holding Bert's hand) can't help the smile that decides to spread across her face at the sound of her friend speaking so fondly of her father.

"I even knew James we he was a boy, like you." Mrs. Corry gives John a light tap on his head.

All five Banks's are now (if they weren't already) thoroughly intrigued. Bert decides to takes advantage of their distraction and snakes his arm around Mary's waist. She gladly melts into his embrace.

Mrs. Corry leans toward the children as though she is about to share a secret with them, although she makes no effort to lower her voice.

"He used to come in here all the time with his big sister. The two of them would eat all the gingerbread they could, until their bellies began to ache."

Mary lets out a rather uncharacteristic giggle at this comment. As the six face the pair, Bert quickly pulls his arm away. The observers pretend not to notice this action.

"Oh, Mrs. Corry, I think your age is finally catching up with you. That can't possibly be my father you are thinking of. He was the eldest in his family, remember? He never had an older sister"

Mrs. Corry stares back blankly, clearly surprised by Mary's confusion.

"Of course he had an older sister, dear, and he was so very close with her. Why, didn't he even name you after her? Little Lizzie, if I recall correctly. Is your middle name not Elizabeth?"

Mary's expression falls. Though she may have been only four years old when her father passed, she's met everyone in his family.

Or so she thought, at least. But why had none of them mentioned another sister before?

"H-have you seen her recently?" Mary stutters, slowly losing her grip on reality. She grabs ahold of Bert for both mental and physical support.

Mrs. Corry dismally shakes her head, shockingly at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help, dear, but I have not seen nor heard from her since she was a teenager."

Mary Poppins nods understandingly, clears her throat, and reassumes her practically perfect posture.

"Very well," she states in her typical no-nonsense tone. "Thank you for the gingerbread. I shall give Mr. Banks your regards."

The five children also mumble their thanks to the owner on their way out of the shop.

"May I assist you in getting the children home, Miss Poppins?" Bert asks once they're all outside.

He leans closer to the woman, adding "I want to make sure you're all right, as well."

"That would be much appreciated, Bert." Mary smiles, genuinely thankful for his request.

Once back at Number 17, Mary sends the children in to give their father his surprise, hanging back on the steps with Bert.

"What 'ad you all shaken up back there, Mar? I was worried sick!"

"Something just clicked." Mary replies vacantly.

"Men are not given contracts." she pauses, trying to put the pieces together before sharing her theory with Bert.

"No more secrets." He reminds her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"What Mrs. Corry said got me thinking: what if father did have to serve a contract, perhaps because he acquired the powers of a woman, or a girl rather?"

"Like his sister." Bert suggests, trying to follow along.

"Wait," he shakes his head, still trying to process everything Mary's told him since her return.

"If he acquired her magic that means-"

"That means," Mary cuts him off, inhaling sharply to delay the inevitable realisation, "he was with her when she died."

"And she died before serving her contract." Mary breathes after a beat.

"And," Bert continues, having his own realisation, "it would also means that you're father's powers aren't the only source of extra magic inside you."

"And if he had to serve for her, but never did…" Mary trails off, trying to swallow the lump in her throat at the prospect of her unfinished statement. However, not speaking aloud does not conceal the truth from Mary or Bert; they're both thinking it. The man gives her a peck on her forehead for comfort.

"Everythin' will be alright, love." Bert whispers to her, before turning to step away, leaving Mary alone with her thoughts: she may actually have to serve for longer than she thought.

* * *

 **I'm not too fond of this ending, but it's an ending, and hopefully it explains a bit to you.**

 **Speaking of which, I wanted to ask a favour of you: if you are still confused on anything in this story, please please tell me so in a review or PM.**

 **If it's something I've already explained, I'll gladly clarify, if not, I'll try to work it into my outline of the next few chapters.**

 **Thanks again, lovies!**

 **Jillian xx**


	11. Two Worlds

**A/N: PLEASE READ (sorry it's long)**

 **Hey guys - miss me? To keep my excuse short, I have had a lot of personal stuff going on in my life since my surgery and wasn't in the mental space to be writing. I've written about 3.5 chapters since I last updated this fic, but I only finished this one in May (and haven't beena ble to motivate myself to edit it - sorry) But at last I have!**

 **But! now that this story is officially over 2 years old (whaaat?) I'm taking it off hold!**

 **Fyi, my therapist (because I can say that now - I found a therapist who actually diagnosed my anxiety as a real mental illness and not me being 'over-emotional' !) has had me doing a lot of goal setting, so I've set the goal to finish this story in 20 chapters (so 10 more chapters - including this one - 3 ½ of which are already written) by the end of summer!**

 **Thank you so SO much to anyone who has actually stuck by this story (and me) over these past few years**

 **and to all the new readers, you're lucky you didn't have to put up with my awful lack of an update schedule! (Also, you should totally check out my other fics, if you haven't)**

 **Alors...**

* * *

 _Chapter 11: Two Worlds_

 _"Who can predict what the fates will decide when two worlds collide?"_

* * *

"Why do I have to stay home with the little ones when Jane gets to go on an outing with you, Mary Poppins?"

"Michael, such complaining is not appropriate for a boy your age," Mary Poppins reprimands as Michael's whining continues.

"And it's not an outing," she goes on in her no-nonsense way in spite of it being her day off, "we are going dress shopping; I doubt you'd enjoy yourself."

"Michael's just upset it's raining outside because he was hoping to bump into a certain girl in the park." Jane teases, much to the embarrassment of her brother.

"Hey! Just because mum's not here doesn't mean you can belittle me." Michael assures everyone on Cherry Tree Lane knows of his offense.

Mary tsks with a disapproving nod, clicking her tongue, "Temper, temper."

Jane chooses to ignore his last comment."And Bert will be here with you."

Mary, wanting to show Michael she couldn't care less about his selfish problems, turns to her fiancé, "Anabelle is still sick. She's sleeping upstair with Ellen, but please make sure the twins don't wake her."

"Something tells me the twins aren't the ones you'll have to worry about," Jane adds under her breath so only Mary Poppins hears.

The woman lets out an involuntary smirk, but quickly resumes her typical cold appearance.

"You can count on me," Bert smiles.

With a satisfied nod Mary Poppins leads Jane out, pulling the front door closed with a bit more force than was probably necessary - directed at Michael's attitude, of course.

"Well," Michael begins, perking up a bit, "Father's at work, Mother's at rehearsal, and Mary Poppins is gone all morning, leaving no Jane to fill her place," turning hopefully to Bert with a conspiring glint in his eye.

"No funny business," Bert replies as seriously as he can manage, "I'm not against a bit o' fun, but I'm still in charge and I don't need you wrecking the house, or waking your baby sister."

"Anabelle could sleep through an earthquake and not be disturbed." John declares, obviously choosing to side with his brother.

Bert bends down to the level of the twins, yet glares up at Michael to keep him in check.

"Anabelle is a sick three-year-old. She needs rest and will probably be driving poor Ellen up the walls in a moment, even if you three stay perfectly quiet."

"But we want to have fun, Bert." Michael whines again, "if we have to be perfectly behaved _inside_ , then how will we ever enjoy ourselves."

"If you're so insistent on bein' in charge," Bert smirks at the boy, "why don't we all ventured out into the rain and pay a visit to this friend of yours? I'm sure she's just as bored sittin' home alone."

"She's not alone, she's with her sister," Michael grumbles, taking unnecessarily heavy steps from the landing to the settee.

"Why did Jane even have to bring that up."

Bert goes over to comfort the boy.

"Older siblings just can't help teasin' their younger ones - I did it t' me brother all the time growing up."

There's a brief moment of awkward silence before Bert picks up a hint of reluctance in Michael's disposition.

Turning to the other Banks children, "John, Barbara, why don't you go out to the garden and try to wake up Robertson Ay - and I'll have Mrs. Brill send you some sweets in a bit."

The twins, knowing full well Mary Poppins were never permit such snacks this early in the day, quickly oblige Bert's request, leaving him alone with Michael.

"I don't need you to lecture me, I-"

"What's 'er name," Bert enquires with a serious tone, and yet also a friendly smile.

"You said you had a younger brother?"

Bert laughs at the boy's poor attempt to avoid the question.

"Ay, that I do. And - for all intents and purposes - a sister too, so I know how tricky teenaged girls can be, which is why I wanna 'ear this friend o' yours from you before Jane gets to talking too much about it."

"Her name is Clara," sighing in defeat.

Bert fails to stifle a laugh at the mention of the name. He can't help thinking of the coincidence.

"What's so funny?"

Composing himself, "oh, nothing lad."

"Tell me more about this sister of her's."

"She looks nothing like Clara," Michael deadpans.

"And she looks after Clara a lot because she's got a single father who works late a lot?"

Michael's mouth falls agape in confusion.

"Lucky guess," he passes it off.

"Eh, probably nothing, but I find it a bit amusin' that your friend shares her name with Mary's last charge."

"The one she got sacked from?" Michael realises with a bit more joy than he probably should have for the situation.

As though on cue, the doorbell rings and the boy jumps up to answer it, thankful for the distraction from talking about Clara. Unfortunately for him, the girl in question is exactly who he finds at the door, stood beside an older girl with chestnut curls. It's the older one who address Michael.

"Pardon us," he melodic voice begins, "but I have the afternoon off and wanted to see if- well, Clara wanted to see if she could spend the afternoon with you."

Clara, in turn, sends an icy glare to the girl at her side for being ratted out.

"Is your mother home, Michael?" the latter continues.

"Actually, I'm in charge today," Bert comments, joining Michael in the doorway, "an' it's no trouble at all!"

"Thank you so much, Bert," she replies before shuffling off.

"Do you just know everyone in London?" the two teens observe in unison.

Bert shrugs. "Why Bernadette is- well, I suppose you could say we're almost like family," he concludes after cutting off his first thought rather abruptly, as though about to say something he doesn't want the children to know.

"So secretive," Michael scoffs.

"Sounds to me like he's spending too much time with Mary Poppins," Clara adds.

"You don't know the half of it," Michael continues, but is immediately interrupted by Bert summoning the two of them out into the back garden.

"Well, can you tell us how you know Mary Poppins, at least," Clara instigates, sitting with the twins in the grass.

John and Barbara's ears perk up at the girl's suggestions, practically begging Bert for a story. The man in charge is uncharacteristically hesitant to comply.

"I wouldn't mind sharin' a thing or two, but," sighing apologetically, not wanting to get into trouble with his secret (and secretly ill-tempered - on purely personal matters, of course!) fiancée, "we've quite a history, I wouldn't know where to start."

Michel isn't playing games. He knows Bert's just trying to avoid answering and isn't having it. "Why don't you give us an embarrassing one? Mary Poppins is very composed, that probably doesn't leave you with a lot of options," raising an eyebrow, "or does it?"

Clara, having a bit more mercy on the poor man, answers before Bert has to come up with another excuse. However, she does still need to maintain an air of cheekiness to keep Bert from denying them. "How about a funny one! That way she won't be cross with us or you. Why wouldn't she want us to know a funny thing that happened with you two?"

Bert contemplates her suggestion for a moment. (Which, it should be noted, is a moment longer than necessary, just to keep the children from thinking they have the power to coax anything they want from him.)

"Well," snapping his fingers, "there was that time I 'er off the roof."

Clara stares back in disbelief, then keeps the same expression as she turned to a laughing Michael, practically doubled over on the grass in front of her.

"You did what?" she cries out, starting to feel a bit more sorry for Mary Poppins than she ever thought she would, but still a bit impressed.

 _15 April, 1902_

" _Bert, you honestly need to relax," Mary called out, surprising Bert with her calmness._

 _The accused stopped, turning to her, his visage expressing a look of curiosity and amazement._

" _Relax? Mary, you fell out of a tree and didn't hit the group - you have magic - you- when were you going to tell me you could do this?"_

" _Never," she bites back, "if you continue suttering like a child?"_

 _Bert smiled. "You mean like you are now?"_

" _You really are incredible"_

" _Thank you."_

 _Mary scoffs, "that wasn't a compliment."_

" _How did you do it? - show me, show me!" He sat down with his legs dangling off the edge of the roof, looking adoring up at her. Mary rolled her eys and joined him._

" _I don't care if your age says you are a man, you still act like an absolute child." she replied, emphasising her insult with a rather forceful shove into his arm._

 _Bert pulled his best friend to him in a purposefully too-tight embrace. "Please?"_

 _Mary laughed into his chest at his desperation. She'd never admit it, but she secretly loved when Bert asked anything of her - it made her feel wanted; it reminded her that no matter what she did, he would always take care of her. Even in this odd context._

" _Darling, I would, but I honestly don't know how. It just happened before because it needed to, I guess. I don't think I could consciously do it again."_

" _Then we'll have to figure out how to make it a conscious thing." Bert suggests, knowing full well he has no clue how to help with that suggestion._

" _I really can't." Mary rebutted._

" _It's that attitude that's your problem." Bert counters, gaining a bit more confidence, an idea coming to mind._

" _But it's not a natural instinct. Heck, it's not even a natural-"_

" _I think you're scared t-"_

" _Actually, it was quite exhilarating." Mary paused, processing what she just said._

 _By now the couple was standing on the edge of the roof ,getting in each other's face. Unfortunately for Mary, this meant Bert's previous idea was becoming much easier to execute._

" _That's good!"_

" _but that's not import-"_

" _So harness that desire to relive it and-"_

" _I'm not sure I want to relive it exactly. It was some kind of unnatural instinct, a-"_

" _Then let instinct guide you" were the last words she heard from him before she realised she not longer felt the safety of the roof underneath her boots. Bert's hands were on her shoulders one moment, gone the next, she might have blacked out for a moment. Or maybe slipped out of her conscious mind? It took a bit too long for her eyes to tell her brain what they were seeing: she was staring face-to-face with an all-too-smug Bert. He was raising himself onto his toes in delight, teetering on the edge of the roof._

" _But if you're there…" Mary thought aloud, blanching as she looked down at her feet, as well as the street 5 stories below them._

 _His theory was correct, and his idiotic plan worked. Mary, just far enough from the roof to not be able to simply step back on it, yet not knowing how to move herself some other way, reached out toward Bert, hoping woul would take her hand and pull her back._

 _How he wanted to tease her and ignore the gesture! To leave her floating mid-air for even a few seconds longer. He couldn't bear the distressed face now looking up at him (as Mary had taken to lying on her stomach after reaching a bit further than where her centre of gravity would keep her upright. She had only been levitating about 15 seconds before being pulled back to the secure roof of Bert's building, but it felt like hours to a terrified Mary Poppins._

" _Herbert Quinton Alfred, you absolute devil!" The annoyed woman spat, hitting him with all the might her tiny body would allow the second her feet found the ground._

" _Now, now, no need to get yourself in a twist," Bert nonchalantly quipped once she stopped shouting at him, "we should probably get back inside and wash before tea," pulling out his pocket watch._

 _By now, Mary was slowly walking back to the door in the roof that would bring her back to the safety of the four walls of their bedroom, but opted to make the journey backwards to keep her eyes locked with Bert's, her eyes intimidating him a bit more with every step she took._

" _Though, she's such an old thing, I can't be too sure. An' I normally check 'er against dad's 'fore he heads to work and I forgot this mornin' so I may've set 'er ahead too much earlier."_

 _His voice was betraying him; Mary Poppins could scare anyone if she tried hard enough, even as a young lady._

" _What'd you think, Mar? Dy'a think mum's got good out for us yet?" Bert nervously laughs._

 _She pauses in disbelief at his maintained composure._

" _Are we going to ignore the fact you just pushed me off the roof?" she answered back, her tone full of shock._

 _Bert, feeling a bit of guilt hitting him from his previous decision, held out is arms for her, motioning with his outstretched hands for her to return to his embrace._

" _Promise I won't let go," he tries._

 _Mary reluctantly accepts the invitation and holds him close to her, ever thankful to have her feet back on solid ground, and already planning to keep them there for a while._

" _You are positively impossible, you immature idiot. Thank you for being my best friend."_

 _..._

"You tried on some lovely dresses, dear," Bernadette reassures, Jane skipping between her and Mary Poppins on their was down Cherry Tree Lane.

The nanny offers a defeated smile in response.

"Yes, they were, but none of them were…" she trails off.

"magical enough?" Jane figures to finish.

Mary lets out a small chuckle, the day has certainly helped her to let down her guard. "Yes, I suppose that is exactly what I was thinking."

Mary Poppins had grown accustomed to hiding her emotions, but being reminded of how many people care about her made her ever thankful.

"We'll get through this." She thinks in an effort to motivate herself. She's kept her worries about the future to Bert alone, and she hopes that focusing on their wedding will force it to become a reality.

Caught up in her mind, she doesn't even notice Jane and Bernadette had turned into the gate at number 17 until she heard her name, which sounded like she was underwater.

Mary sighed to herself. "Perhaps Joy was right."

She hated having an older sister sometimes.

Stepping up to the door, the three can already hear the raucous before even opening it.

"Quiet now, we are not animals in the zoo, are we?"

"Oh, Mary Poppins, I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow morning?" Michael reacts guiltily, holding a cookie out of a desperately jumping Barbara's reach.

Mary curses herself - she had hoped the children would be outside or upstairs when she returned.

"Well, I'm not staying," she awkwardly admits, looking form the boy to Bert, to Clara.

"I was just bringing Jane home." she continues explaining with a slight hesitation in her tone, "It's nice to see you again Clara. I hope your being good for your father."

The girl rolls her eyes are her former "nanny."

"At least Bernadette doesn't make me call her my nurse or anything." She looks to the exact person she's speaking of, then back to Mary Poppins, "and she's a lot younger than you so I can tell people she's my sister."

"She honestly looks more like Mary Poppins than she does you." Michael teases, earning him a blush from Clara and a harsh stare from his own nanny.

"Clara, we must be going - your father will want you there when he gets home from work," Bernadette hastily suggests to ease the tension, ushering Clara outside.

"An' if you're not staying," Bert looks at Mary suggestively, "I'll, er, I'll walk you home. "G'day Bankses."

"See you tomorrow, children, please behave yourselves for Mrs. Brill until mother gets home." Mary calmly says with a wave of her gloved hand.

Once on the pavement, safely out of earshot of both the children inside number 17 and the other two girls walking in the opposite direction, Mary turns to Bert. The man squeezes her hand in concern, a panicked look on her face.

"Can we head to the train station instead?" Mary asks anxiously, "there's somewhere else I think we should spend the night."

* * *

 **p.s. even though I have a few chapters done, I'm going to stagger when I post them in order to get ahead on the others :)**

 **\- Jillian xx**


	12. Come to My Garden

**A/N: So much for finishing this story before I went back to school [literally on hold with my school right now...], but here's that chapter I wrote back in January anyway (before I wrote last chapter, whoops)**

 **Thank you so much for sticking with me - I hope you like this chapter, it's one of my personal favourites so far!**

* * *

 _Chapter 12: Come to My Garden_

 _"Stay there in my garden where love grows free and wild..."_

* * *

Without a word of where she's leading him or why, Bert found himself stood on the front steps of a massive estate about an hour's train ride outside of the city, feeling very confused. Mary Poppins was wringing her hands anxiously beside him.

"So," Bert disturbs the silence. It's already a bit into the afternoon and he needs to get some kind of an explanation out of his enigmatic best friend.

"Are you gonna-"

"Father's country house." Mary interrupts with a hollow tone in her voice, "We called it the 'Lily of the Valley' estate as children, because those flowers would be in full bloom when we came here toward the end of spring." A half-laugh, more out of irony than amusement, escapes her lips as she motioned to the flowerless green leaves surrounding the main entrance.

"I'm sorry, Bert, I just," she falters a moment. "I haven't been in this house since the summer before father died."

Bert offers her a hand and a smile.

"I've helped you through the bad memories, I'm sure I can handle the nostalgic ones."

Mary places her other hand over Bert's and squeezes it, then pulls a key from her pocket.

"Joy gave it to me earlier. Technically all three of us were left the house in father's will, but they wanted me - or rather us - to have it."

She unlocks the doors and guides Bert warily into the foyer. He looks around, mouth agape at the elegance of the interior.

"I knew your father had money, Mar, but this-"

"Was our summer home - we lived in the city." Mary finishes rather timidly. She was rather self-conscious when talking about her upbringing, especially the wealth that came with it.

She never really was a materialistic person, though a sentimental one.

The man mumbles something that sounds like "oh yes, of course," in response to Mary as the pair walk further inside to explore the house.

The couple separates: Bert curiously exploring, Mary embracing her past, when she hears a loud gasp from the salon.

"Are you all right, Bert, I thought I heard-" Mary exclaims, running in.

"Oh," she laughs, realising what caused his surprise.

"It looks like this fire raged - how is the damage so controlled?" he observed, staring at the soot marks above the mantle, stopping just below a bittersweet family portrait featuring a 3-month-old Angel.

"That's because it was ignited with magic." Mary makes a playfully dramatic gesture with her hands for emphasis.

When she gets no response, she sighs and bluntly adds, "let's just say I didn't take the news of Mother's second engagement too well."

"Wait - baby you did this?" Bert's eyes bug in disbelief - the reaction Mary was expecting from her first comment.

"You know you're going to have to explain yourself a bit more than that."

This earns him a smug grin as the mysterious woman at his side briskly turns on her heel to head for a different part of the house: Mary Poppins still never explains anything (she doesn't want to.)

"Not even to the man she's marryin'" Bert laments aloud. He knows Mary hears, but she politely ignores the disapproval in his tone.

He follows her to the kitchen, where her pace unexpectedly quickens.

"Come this way, Bert," Mary calls out enthusiastically, turning to check that Bert has caught up with her, leading him though the kitchen door and out into the vegetable gardens behind the manor, "you simply must let me show you my favourite place on the estate!"

The pair exit into the topiary maze guarded by the kitchen gardens and Mary's inner child begins to show through, bringing them through the complicated landscape to her destination.

"Oh, you'll simply love it," she cheers, "at the centre of the maze stands a tall tree surrounded by the most beautiful walled-in garden you've ever seen."

Bert can't suppress the smile that forms upon his face at Mary's enthusiasm. It's good to see her so happy.

"I'm sure it's as lovely as you, Mar."

Bert feels dizzy weaving through all the twists and turns, or perhaps from focussing more on Mary Poppins than his footing. The latter reason is only brought to his attention as he walks into her when she abruptly stops in the middle of the path, knocking them both to the tattered stones of the old path. It's really quite a pleasant picture to take in: Bert laughing at Mary's surprising instability, Mary (having made no attempt to move herself from beneath him, it should be noted) laughing at Bert's own inattentiveness.

He finally gets to his feet, then helps a still-beaming Mary up as well. The woman turns to the wall of ivy beside them, reflective of the hedges they had gone through to get here. However, once she begins brushing the loose strands of ivy away, Bert sees that there is, in fact, a stone wall hiding behind them.

Mary, as though searching for a secret passage, feels around behind the vines until she pauses, gesturing Bert to her side. There is a large wooden door with a brass knob set in the stones. Ever the gentleman, Bert lightly pushes Mary aside to open the door for her, but strains to do so.

He voices this concern to Mary who lets out a small musical laugh, "because I have the key," pulling from her pocket a brass key with the initials "J/E P" carved into it.

 _How many keys you go in there, Mar?_

"This was your father's garden, wasn't it?"

"I suppose so," Mary shrugs, putting the key into a hole in the brass, "I found this key buried in the dirt one day while planting the irises out here, and when I asked father about it, he showed me this door and told me it was a place very dear to him."

"When you were four?" Bert raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"Three and a half," Mary matter-of-factly corrects, "I was a very curious little thing you know," her tone dripping with playful offense.

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," Bert smiles as Mary finally opens the door, revealing to him a lush garden in full bloom. He looks to her with a cheeky grin.

It seems she knows exactly what he's thinking, naturally, because without him saying a word she admits "I haven't been inside the house since the summer before Mother was remarried, but I never said I hadn't walked the property. I just couldn't bear the thought of this garden dying. It's like I can feel my father's spirit in here, like he was at my side telling me exactly what to do with all the flowers."

Bert lets his smile grow into a toothy grin, earning him a curious look from his friend.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grown?"

She rolls her eyes at his childish nature.

Nevertheless she amuses him, finishing the nursery rhyme.

"With cockle shell and silver bells," walking over to a certain patch of golden flowers, "and marigolds all in a row," she finishes, sitting beside the marigolds. "And I am not contrary."

Bert holds up a finger to protest, but she jumps to her feet before he can.

"Not a word more on the matter, Mr. Alfred."

The accused smirks, lifts Mary up and spins her around in the air, dares to brush a kiss to her lips as he sets her down.

"Apology accepted," with a smirk of her own.

Mary shows Bert around, impressing him with her horticultural knowledge. She ends the mock-tour by leading them to a mossy stone bench hiding in the shade beneath the massive tree.

"D'ya know how that branch broke?" Bert wonders aloud, looking up at the canopy guarding them.

"I haven't the foggiest," Mary frankly replies, looking up as well, "perhaps it came down in a storm."

That answer suffices them both, but Bert tests his luck, knowing his next enquiry may not be met with such a calm response.

"Did your father ever tell you why the key was buried?"

Mary sighs, "I can't be too certain," she begins, quite more quickly than Bert expected her to, "but he did tell me the first time he brought me in here that it was the first time anyone had set foot in the garden since he was fifteen or so."

Her face gives away that she is not satisfied with that answer, but she has no way of getting more information from the source, leaving her to let out a very large sigh from her rather tiny frame.

"Well-"

"Kindly don't ask any more questions I can't answer, and just enjoy this moment."

There's a tense pause as Bert breaks eye contact with Mary.

"I'm sorry, dear, I-" she pauses, struggling to articulate her exact feelings on the matter.

"It was my father's, and since he died when I was so young, I'm about as curious as you, and you know how frustrated I get when I don't know things," she resolves to conclude.

He pulls her close to him, and places a firm kiss on the crown of her head.

"I know, love," he reassures her, "I know."

...

The couple spends the rest of the day wandering around, Mary finding ever more details to share with Bert about her secret garden: the clusters of crocus, the blankets of pansies, the lilies, the iris, the snowdrops, and of course, the roses. Bert had never seen so many roses in his life as were planted here. It was truly like a personal paradise for him and Mary to share.

The couple had been enjoying themselves so much, they lost track of the time. That is, until they noticed the sun going down behind the wall.

"Perhaps we should head inside and pick which rooms we'll sleep in tonight," Mary observes, stifling a yawn.

"Rooms?" Bert raises an eyebrow at her suggestively. Mary rolls her eyes, of course.

"Fine, but don't get any ideas," she relents, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Back inside the manor house, Bert practically bounces into the first room he finds. It's a quaint room, but decorated with a lot of old photographs and personal items. Bert thinks it a great decision on his part - a very homey feel, reminiscent of his own meagre flat - but turns to find a less than excited, more frightened actually, Mary Poppins standing in the doorway.

Meeting his gentle eyes, Mary begins to take cautious steps toward Bert. (She was actually walking toward the bed behind him, but Bert didn't realise that until she actually sat down upon it in a trance.)

She looks around the room, trying to take in everything around her - physical and emotional - stopping at a pile of letters on the desk in the corner of the room.

Bert walks over to the desk, shifts through the letters, skimming them to get an idea of their contents.

Turning to Mary, "they look like letters between Uncle Albert and your father, from his time in America, perhaps?"

He brings one over and sits next to her on the bed. "They're all about you."

She takes the letter and reads through it, her expression wavering between happiness, nostalgia, then finally resting on sadness.

"This is where-" she trails off, delicately spreading her now gloveless fingers across the bedding, her eyes focused on the floor. Bert had taken to exploring more of the room, letting her organise her thoughts. Sifting through some drawers, he stumbles across a box with an opened lock holding it shut.

Checking to see if Mary has noticed his movements (she hasn't) Bert begins flipping through a black diary featuring a chipping gold embossing which reads "James E. Poppins."

The first entry is dated 1866 and Bert quickly doing the math in his head, surmises that the man, or boy rather, must have hardly been in his teen years while writing it.

Most of the entries are rather unassuming until he comes across a page that bears no real entry. The page has the head of a small rose pressed into the centre and, in the upper right-hand corner-

Both people, through the thick air of the neglected room, take a deep breath.

Mary, trying to clear her mind: "This was my parents' bedroom."

Bert, reading the date: "1 May 1866 - from Lizzie's garden on her 16th Birthday"


End file.
